


Come on, Macdonald

by Patriceavril



Series: Blackdonald [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Issues, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Marijuana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 48,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28704399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patriceavril/pseuds/Patriceavril
Summary: “Honestly, Macdonald, I had the same thought. Sometimes I think you’re just a female version of me.”“I don’t know if I agree with that.” Mary lay down on the bed next to Sirius and kicked off her shoes. “I’m not nearly as conceited as you are.” She blew a lock of hair out of her face and glanced over at him.“And your hair’s not nearly as nice as mine, either,” Sirius added.“I can’t think of anyone who has hair as nice as yours, to be honest. But there I go again, feeding your enormous ego.”Sirius Black and Mary Macdonald spend the summer of 1977 smoking, shagging, drinking, but definitely not dating.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Marauders & Lily Evans Potter, Mary Macdonald & Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black/Mary Macdonald
Series: Blackdonald [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2104170
Comments: 13
Kudos: 9





	1. I'm glad you're here, Macdonald

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thanks to my official "weed consultant," as well as to cleverbrainer for helping me answer all the random questions my brain thinks up while writing fanfic.

The motorbike sped down the narrow street and screeched to a halt inches from a parked car. The lanky figure astride it cut the engine and pushed on the kickstand, making sure the motorbike was fully stable before swinging his long leg over the seat to dismount. He wore no helmet, and the light breeze plucked at his long dark hair that somehow fell perfectly into his face despite the high-speed journey of the last half hour. He reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a piece of parchment, holding it up to his face to peer at it and squinting in the bright summer sun. He read the words several times, double and triple checking the instructions, even though he had been through it countless times already:  _ Come to the front door and ring the buzzer for my flat (you can’t miss it, it says Macdonald but half of the letters have peeled off so it just says Macdo - very upscale and refined, don’t you think?). When I hear you buzz, I’ll open the front door to let you in. Go up one set of stairs and we’re the first door on your right.  _ Once he had assured himself he knew what to do, he shoved the parchment back into his pocket and strode up to the door, locating the button next to the conspicuous label “Macdo” and pressed it before hastily pulling his hand away. When nothing happened, he hesitated, unsure whether he should press it again or simply wait. Before he could come to a decision, the door swung open and he jumped backwards hastily to avoid being hit in the face.

“Hullo, Macdonald,” Sirius said, grinning. “What, were you watching out the window for me? Didn’t think I’d be able to figure out how to ring the buzzer?”

She grinned back at him. “I just figured it would be easier if I came down and met you so you don’t have to come all the way up to my flat.” She hesitated. “My mum is home.”

“Well, that’s excellent, because I’d love to meet her.” He took a step forward, but she blocked the doorway. “Oh, come on, Macdonald. I drove all the way here to get you, so the least you can do is introduce me to your mum.” He tugged on one of her curls.

She sighed. “All right, fine, but just so you know, she’s already half in the bag and will probably try to hit on you.” 

“Brilliant. Should I take my shirt off, really give her a show?” Sirius began to remove his jacket.

“If you do, I will never speak to you again.” She made sure his jacket remained zipped before she led the way through the door and into a dim entryway that smelled of mildew and cigarette smoke. She headed for the stairs, but Sirius put a hand on her shoulder.

“Hang on,” he murmured.

She turned to face him, but before she could speak he pulled her towards him and kissed her. She pressed herself against him and tangled her hands in his hair, and for a moment their dingy surroundings melted away and there was only the pressure of her lips against his and the familiar scent of her skin and the light scrape of her fingernails against his scalp. Then they broke apart, both flushed and out of breath, and Sirius again became aware of the musty carpets and broken banister and the blare of a radio from down the hall. 

“I missed that,” Mary said as she brushed a strand of hair out of her face and adjusted her shirt to conceal the several inches of red bra peeking out.

“Fuck, I did too,” Sirius replied, taking a deep breath and trying to resist the urge to pin her against the wall and rip her clothes off. 

“You need a minute before we go upstairs?” she asked, glancing down meaningfully and flashing him a sly smile. 

“Er, yeah, that would probably be best,” he said. He forced his mind to focus on completely nonsexual thoughts: Dumbledore’s beard, Potions homework, that bloke who works at The Leaky Cauldron, Peter’s flannel pajamas… “Okay, I’m good.” He gestured for her to go first, and she started up the stairs.

“Look out,” she warned, gesturing at a spot near the top of the staircase where the carpet pulled away from the step and posed a tripping hazard. “Sorry, the place is a bit of a dump.” 

“That’s all right,” Sirius replied as he skipped the perilous step and made it to the landing at the top of the stairs. “As long as nobody’s screaming at me about how I’m a blood traitor and a disappointment to the Black name, it’s loads better than where I grew up.”

“Don’t be so sure, you haven’t met my mum yet,” Mary muttered. She paused in front of a door and glanced back at Sirius, a wary expression on her face, before taking a deep breath and opening the door. 

A smoky haze filled the tiny flat, and the yellowed curtains let in only a sliver of sunlight. A strainer next to the sink held neatly stacked dishes, and Sirius detected the faint scent of cleaning products, but the small kitchen table held an overflowing ashtray and a sticky ring left behind from a drinking glass. A slim woman sat hunched at the table, a glass of liquor in one hand and a cigarette in the other. 

“Mum,” Mary said, a slight note of rebuke in her tone. “You’ve dropped ash all over the floor, and I just hoovered.” 

Mary’s mother looked up slowly, her eyes glassy and unfocused from alcohol. Her unnaturally blonde hair showed several inches of dark roots flecked with grey, and her sallow skin revealed the toll of years of chain smoking and alcohol abuse. Then her face split into a wide smile and Sirius caught a glimpse of the pretty young woman she must have once been, before a combination of bad luck and poor decisions had led her to her current dismal circumstances.

“Sorry, love,” she said. The cigarettes and alcohol gave her words a throaty, slurred quality, but Sirius found the effect sultry and intriguing rather than offputting. “I thought you’d left for the night. I was going to clean before you came back.”

“Sure you were,” Mary muttered, and Sirius had the distinct impression that Mary spent her summers frantically cleaning up her mother’s messes, only to come home from work and find another pile of dirty dishes in the sink or a broken gin bottle on the floor or a pot of pasta congealing on the stove. “I came back in for a minute because Black wanted to meet you.” Her eyes darted to Sirius, as if wondering if he already regretted this decision. “Mum, this is Sirius Black. Black, this is my mum.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Macdonald,” Sirius said, extending his hand to her.

“Please, call me Melanie,” she replied, setting down her glass of gin with a dull thud and a soft clink of ice so she could shake his hand. “Mary never told me you’re so bloody good looking. Tell me, Sirius, are all wizards this handsome?” She winked at him, and Sirius noticed her heavy eye makeup had smudged slightly.

“Sadly, no. We’ve got the usual range of good looking and ugly people, just like Muggles,” he said, flashing her his most charming grin. “I can see where this one gets her good looks, though.” He nodded in Mary’s direction, then winked at Melanie.

“You’re sweet,” Melanie said. She took a long drag on her cigarette and exhaled the smoke in a long stream, sighing and shaping her lips into a perfect O in a way that made the act look seductive. “Sit down and have a cigarette with me before you go.” She held up a pack of cigarettes and gestured at the empty chair next to her, and Sirius shrugged and sat down. He selected a cigarette from the pack and put it to his lips, lighting it with one hand while offering the pack to Mary with the other.

“Shouldn’t we get going?” Mary asked, glancing at the door hopefully.

“Oh, come on, Macdonald, we have time for a cigarette,” Sirius said, pushing out the remaining chair with his foot before shaking a cigarette out of the pack and handing it to her. “What’s the hurry?”

Mary sighed and sat down, a slight frown on her usually cheerful face as she lit her cigarette and took a drag. 

“Would you like a drink?” Melanie asked. She pointed at a half-full gin bottle on the kitchen counter, but Sirius shook his head.

“Normally I would never turn down a drink, but it’s my first time taking your daughter on my motorbike, and I don’t want her to have any reason to doubt my impeccable driving skills.” He tapped his cigarette against the side of the chipped ashtray and elbowed Mary gently. “I hope you’re ready, Macdonald, because it goes really bloody fast.”

“You drive a motorbike?” Melanie said, her eyes bright with interest. “I used to date a bloke who drove a motorbike when I was about Mary’s age. It was brilliant! I used to love how fast we’d go - it was so exhilarating.” She smiled at the memory, and Sirius couldn’t help but picture her on the back of some tattooed man’s motorbike, the wind blowing her hair around, her cheeks flushed and an expression of pure bliss on her face. “Mary, how come you never told me he drives a motorbike?” She frowned at Mary, her tone half teasing and half accusatory.

“I did tell you, Mum,” Mary said, rolling her eyes. “I told you last night, although I dunno why I expected you to remember, as you were three sheets to the fucking wind as usual.” 

“No need to be so bloody rude, Mary,” Melanie replied. She drained the last drops from her glass, then stood and crossed the room to peer out the window. She wore shorts even shorter than Mary’s, and she switched her hips as she walked in a way that was almost indecent. “Is that it, then?” She pointed out the window. “Ooh, I love it. Very sexy.” She returned to the table. “I bet you look great on it.” She winked at Sirius again. “Then again, I bet you’d look great doing pretty much anything.”  
“Mum, for fuck’s sake!” Mary snapped. “Why don’t you just ask him to shag you and be done with it!”

“Don’t be so dramatic, love.” Melanie stubbed out her cigarette and rolled her eye. “I’m only having a laugh. I’m not going to steal your boyfriend, so no need to get your knickers in a twist.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Mary said. “I know I’ve told you that already several times, as well.”

“I don’t know why you don’t tell me these things before I’ve started drinking,” Melanie replied.

“Yeah, well, I would, except it’s a bit difficult when you start downing gin at ten in the bloody morning.”

“I work odd hours,” Melanie retorted, her eyes flickering to Sirius to gauge his reaction. To his credit, his expression remained neutral as he took one final drag on his cigarette and dropped the butt into the already overflowing ashtray. “Anyway, I don’t see the difference. You shag, you write each other letters, he’s come to pick you up on his motorbike so you can visit him during the summer holiday, and you’re clearly mad about each other. You’re in a relationship for all intents and purposes, even if you choose to pretend otherwise.”

“I’d love to continue this wonderful conversation, but I think we’ve got to get going now,” Mary said, dropping her cigarette on top of Sirius’s and pushing her chair back from the table. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Make sure you’ve set your alarm properly, as I won’t be here to make sure you wake up in time for work.”

“It was lovely meeting you, Melanie,” Sirius said, flashing her a grin as he stood and followed Mary towards the door.

“It was lovely meeting you as well, Sirius,” Melanie replied. “Maybe next time you can bring me for a ride on your motorbike?” She reached for the bottle of gin and poured a hefty measure into her glass, then took a sip and heaved a sigh of satisfaction. 

“Mum, he’s not-” Mary began, but Sirius spoke over her.

“I’d love to.” He pulled open the door, then looked back over his shoulder. “I’d warn you that it’s a hell of a lot faster than the one your old boyfriend had, but you seem like you can handle a wild ride.” He winked at her, then waved and followed Mary out the door.

“Bloody hell, I’m so sorry,” Mary said, rubbing her temples and wearing an expression of complete mortification. “I knew she was going to love you, but I didn’t think it would be that bad. Merlin, she was undressing you with her eyes.” 

Sirius chuckled. “It’s all right,” he assured her. “I dunno what it is, but mums always love me. Except my mum, that is.” They had reached the bottom of the stairs, and Sirius held the door for Mary, then stepped out of the stuffy apartment building into the bright afternoon. He squinted against the blinding glare of the sun, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses.

“I hate to inflate your ego any more than I already have, but it really is impressive,” Mary said. She stood in front of the motorbike, gazing down at it with unabashed admiration. She ran a finger down the shiny fender, then placed a hand on the leather seat, a look of wonder on her face.

“I know, isn’t she fucking beautiful?” Sirius touched the handlebar almost lovingly. “Here, you’d better take this.” He unzipped his leather jacket and shrugged it off, handing it to her before hopping onto the motorbike. “There’s a built-in cushioning charm, and I don’t plan on crashing, but just in case, it’ll be better if you’re wearing a bit more clothing.” He glanced meaningfully at her tiny t-shirt and even tinier shorts. 

“Yeah, all right,” she agreed, pulling on the jacket and climbing onto the bike behind him. “But what about you?” She touched his arm, now bare because the removal of the jacket had left him clad in only a tight t-shirt. 

“I’ll be fine. Like I said, I don’t plan to crash.” He turned around and grinned at her. “You ready, Macdonald? You’ll want to hang on tight, because this thing fucking  _ goes _ .”

She wrapped her hands around his waist. “You know what you’re doing, right? Because I’d hate to die before I’m old enough to legally get drunk at a pub.”

“Don’t you trust me? When have I ever put you in danger?” He turned around and smiled ruefully. “Okay, besides the time we went sledding and crashed into a tree, but to be fair that was partly your fault for putting your hand down my trousers.”

“So you’re saying I should keep my hands out of your trousers while you’re driving?”

“Unfortunately, yes, that is exactly what I’m saying.” He turned the ignition and the engine roared to life. “All right, let’s go,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the sound of the motorbike, and then he pressed the gas and the motorbike shot forward. Mary tightened her grip on his waist, and with her face pressed close to his ear he could just hear her involuntary exclamations of fear and excitement as he navigated the motorbike through the crowded streets. Sirius itched to go faster, to accelerate until he’d left everything behind and there was only the wind in his face and the rumble of the motorbike beneath him and the warmth of Mary’s arms snug around his waist. They weaved in and out of traffic, then slowed as they approached an intersection, and Sirius tapped his fingers on the handlebars, his impatience almost palpable as he waited for the driver ahead of them to make a turn.

“What are you doing, you dumb fucking wanker?” he shouted as he swerved around the car. “Learn how to bloody drive or get off the roads, for fuck’s sake.” He followed this piece of sage advice with a well-chosen hand gesture before leaving him behind with a squeal of tires and a whiff of exhaust fumes.

“Does it make people drive faster if you swear at them?” Mary asked. He could barely hear her, yet he thought he detected a teasing note in her voice.

“Occasionally,” he replied. “And don’t give me shit, that’s considered distracting the driver.”

They approached an on-ramp, and Sirius made the split-second decision to get onto the highway, veering right at the last second and eliciting an angry honk from the car behind them. Sirius did not need to take this highway to get to his flat, but he couldn’t resist showing Mary what the motorbike could do. Putting along crowded city streets and waiting for idiots to turn left seemed somehow insulting to such a sleek, powerful vehicle, and he could almost feel the motorbike urging him to go faster. He obliged, overtaking a line of several cars and switching into the middle lane before really giving it some gas. His breath caught in his chest and his heart beat faster as he accelerated, and he savored the familiar feeling of adrenaline racing through his bloodstream and making him feel  _ so fucking ali _ ve.

Nothing else had ever managed to eliminate his anger and anxieties like this. Drinking helped, and shagging helped, and spending time with his mates helped, but only as far as providing a distraction to drown out his unpleasant emotions. When Sirius reached a certain speed on the motorbike, he left behind his fury at his brother’s latest rejection or his uneasiness about the increasingly disturbing  _ Daily Prophet _ articles, because at that speed the only thing he could think about was the act of driving itself. He thought this must be the way James felt about flying, and this idea amused him, because flying a broomstick and driving a motorbike essentially appealed to them because it allowed them to move fast enough to leave their problems behind, but it seemed only fitting that Sirius’s chosen method of doing so would be loud and illegal and a Muggle invention.

Together the deafening sound of the motorbike’s engine and the rushing wind made it impossible for Sirius to talk to Mary, yet he sensed in the slight tightening of her arms and the quality of her breath against his neck that she loved the adrenaline rush almost as much as he did. He had guessed bringing her with him might make him enjoy the sensation less, but if anything the opposite was true. The knowledge that he held her life in his hands, that he was the one allowing her to leave her problems in the dust, made the experience that much sweeter. For the moment, the entire world was reduced to Sirius and Mary, and the motorbike, and the dizzying speed, and for the moment, that was all he needed, that was everything.

After a while Sirius realized he had no idea how long they’d been driving, and he reluctantly took an off ramp, then got back on the highway going the opposite direction. When they pulled to a stop in the alleyway next to his flat and Sirius cut the engine, Mary unclasped her hands and slid off the bike, trying in vain to tame her wild tangle of curls. When she managed to brush her hair back from her face, Sirius saw that a feverish glow lit her eyes, and the wind and rush of excitement had flushed her cheeks.

“It’s brilliant, isn’t it?” he said, even though his words fell short, because brilliant didn’t even begin to describe what they’d just experienced together.

“It’s absolutely bloody fucking brilliant,” she agreed, and Sirius mused that her words, if not perfect, at least got a bit closer to describing the insane feeling of exhilaration. “I thought I’d be scared, but once we got going I wasn’t, not at all. I just felt…” Her voice trailed off as she struggled to come up with the right word.

“Alive,” Sirius supplied, and her eyes lit up.

“Exactly! I haven’t felt like that since, Merlin, I don’t even know when.”

“Imagine what it will be like once I get it to fly,” Sirius said as he wheeled the bike into the little shed behind his flat before leading the way into the building and up the steep stairs. He unlocked the door, then pulled it open and allowed Mary to go first. He followed her through the door and stood in the entryway, watching her take in her surroundings.

The afternoon sun streamed in through the windows and formed little pools of light on the hardwood floors. A faint scent of cigarette smoke hung in the air, and snatches of conversation and music drifted up from the street below. The pages of a book, the spot marked by a half-eaten chocolate bar, rustled in the light breeze. A dark brown leather couch and matching recliner were clustered around a mahogany coffee table where an ashtray, several pieces of parchment, an empty Butterbeer bottle, and a grease-stained motorbike manual were strewn about its smooth, shiny surface. Several dirty dishes lurked in the sink, and Sirius wondered if the sight of them would bother Mary, as a clean living space seemed to be her method of coping with her mother’s chaotic lifestyle.

“I love it,” she said. She picked up the motorcycle manual and grinned, replaced it and rested a hand on the Chudley Cannons blanket draped across the back of the couch, then pointed at the framed photograph of Sirius with James and his parents. They all wore matching over-the-top Christmas sweaters; James, Fleamont, and Euphemia all beamed and James had his arm around Sirius, who had his hands shoved in his pockets while he scowled at the camera. “This is bloody hilarious - did the Potters have this framed for you?”

Sirius grinned. “Yeah, it was a housewarming gift, I suppose. I had to hang it up, didn’t want to hurt their feelings, you know.”

“Ooh, I've just remembered that I got you a housewarming gift, too.”

“Macdonald,” Sirius scolded. “We agreed ages ago not to get each other gifts. If I recall correctly, that part of the arrangement was actually your idea.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s not really a proper gift, it’s… well, you’ll know what I mean when I give it to you. But first, can I see the rest of the flat?”

He nodded and strode across the room to the door that led to the smaller bedroom. It bore a sign that proclaimed “BALLYCASTLE BATS SUPPORTERS ONLY” in black and scarlet letters, and opening the door revealed several Quidditch banners on the wall, a discarded Quaffle lying under the window, and a rumpled, unmade double bed. The other side of the room held a bunk bed; both twin mattresses were bare except for cellophane wrapping.

“Nice of you to put beds for the other two boys in James’s bedroom,” she remarked with a grin. “But who gets the top bunk?”

“They’ll have to fight for it,” Sirius replied. “There are drawbacks for both of them if alcohol is involved, which, let’s be honest, is almost inevitable where the four of us are concerned. Remus is more prone to puking, so the top bunk is not necessarily the best place for him. On the other hand, Peter’s more likely to roll out of bed.” He smiled wryly before heading for the door. “Now that I’m saying all this, maybe bunk beds wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, it certainly saves space,” Mary pointed out, following Sirius into his own bedroom. “And it might be a fun challenge to shag on the top bunk.”

“Honestly, Macdonald, I had the same thought. Sometimes I think you’re just a female version of me.” He let himself fall back onto his bed, resting his head on his hands and staring up at the ceiling, where he had hung a poster printed with the last verse of “Stairway to Heaven.” 

“I don’t know if I agree with that.” Mary lay down on the bed next to Sirius and kicked off her shoes. “I’m not nearly as conceited as you are.” She blew a lock of hair out of her face and glanced over at him.

“And your hair’s not nearly as nice as mine, either,” Sirius added.

“I can’t think of anyone who has hair as nice as yours, to be honest. But there I go again, feeding your enormous ego.” Her eyes traveled around the room, pausing on the heap of clothing in the corner, the stack of books on the bedside table, the various posters on the wall. “Who’s that?” She pointed to a poster of a girl lounging nude against a pile of fluffy pillows. Her long blonde hair fell in loose waves that partially obscured her full breasts. “Miss November?”

“How dare you, Macdonald!” Sirius propped himself up on one arm to glare at her. “That is Miss July! Miss November doesn’t even come close.”

“My mistake,” she said, continuing to peer at the poster. “She _ is  _ very good looking. I wish I had hair like that.” She toyed with a lock of her own hair, pulling it out then letting it spring back into place.

“Yes, that’s why I like her, for her hair,” Sirius replied, straight-faced. He looked at the poster for a moment, then glanced back at Mary. “You have a nicer arse, though.”

She laughed. “What are you talking about, you prat? You can’t even see her arse in the photo.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I know yours is better because it is without a doubt the nicest arse I have ever seen, and is quite possibly the nicest in existence.”

“Shut up,” she replied, shoving his shoulder. “You’re having a go at me.”

“I am not,” he protested. “I really mean it. And I know what I’m talking about, as I consider myself to be somewhat of an expert.” 

“Of course. Sirius Black, arse expert extraordinaire.” She rolled her eyes and fiddled with the zipper of his jacket. 

“Please use that title to refer to me from now on,” Sirius said as he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it aside. “Now, I want to know what my housewarming gift is.”

“You’ll find out later,” she murmured, rolling onto her side and leaning in to kiss him. “First, we’re going to christen your new bedroom.”

“Ogling Miss July got you all hot and bothered, didn’t it?” He wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. “You can’t resist her sexy hair.”

“You’re really going to give me shit when I’m about to shag you?” She guided his hand down until he cupped the arse he had praised so profusely just a few moments ago. 

“I guess I’m just a git like that,” he said before covering her mouth with his and effectively ending the conversation.

Later, Mary lay with her head pillowed against her arm. A relaxed, satisfied smile lingered on her face as she pushed her hair out of her eyes to glance over at Sirius. “Do you want your housewarming gift now?”

His arm dangled off the bed, feeling around for his jeans to retrieve his cigarettes. “Yes please,” he replied, giving up his search and adjusting himself so he lay next to her. “Is it a nude photo of you to hang next to Miss July?”

“Shit, how did you guess?” She located her wand in her shorts pocket and Summoned her drawstring backpack from the other side of the room, then reached inside and pulled out a joint. Grinning, she placed it into Sirius’s hand. “Sorry, it’s not a nude photo, but I thought you might enjoy it anyway.”  
“Brilliant! But hang on, did you buy this from Dan Dingle?” He frowned as he held the joint between two fingers and examined it, searching for some sign of fault. “Because he adds in whatever random leaves he can steal from herbology. None of the Hufflepuffs will buy from him and if anyone knows about quality pot, it’s the Hufflepuffs.”

“Relax, I know better than that.” She rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hand, then watched in amusement as he inspected the joint. “I got it from this bloke I know from work. I’ve bought from him before and it’s always good quality. He gave me this for dirt cheap, but I suspect that’s because he wants to shag me.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Are you going to shag him?” He apparently found Mary’s gift satisfactory, because he pulled his wand from his jacket pocket and lit the joint. He inhaled slowly, letting the smoke fill his lungs and holding it in as long as possible before releasing it and passing the joint to Mary.

“I haven’t decided yet.” She accepted the joint and held it to her lips, and the way she pursed her lips and closed her eyes as she took the hit struck Sirius as sexy, until she ruined the effect by erupting into a coughing fit. “Sod off,” she choked out as she passed the joint back to him, but he made no effort to stifle his laughter. “I took a bigger hit than you did.”

“Okay, we’ll go with that,” he replied, still grinning. “Let me show you how it’s done.” He took a deep drag, then began coughing even harder than Mary. 

“Oh, is that how it’s done?” She took the joint from him and inhaled more cautiously, and this time she emitted only a tiny cough before releasing the smoke in a long, steady stream. 

They passed the joint back and forth until it was almost too small to hold and the bedroom had a hazy quality from the marijuana smoke and the sunset out the window, then Sirius dropped the roach into an ashtray on his bedside table and flopped onto his back. 

“You high, Macdonald?” He glanced over at her and watched her staring in apparent fascination as she wrapped a curl around her finger. 

“What?” She released the curl and looked at him, giggling.

“Never mind, you just answered my question.” He turned his gaze to the ceiling, studying the lyrics on the Led Zeppelin poster as he basked in the feeling of detached contentment. 

_And as we wind on down the road_ _  
__Our shadows taller than our soul_

“I just realized I made a pretty big assumption before.” Mary’s voice drifted to Sirius as if from far away, and he had to force himself to repeat the words in his head before he could make meaning from them.

“What big assumption did you make?” His words sounded strange as soon as they left his mouth, too loud, or maybe too quiet - he couldn’t decide. 

“I assumed I was the first girl you shagged here since you moved in, but for all I know you might have had loads of girls in here.” 

She looked over at him, and he watched, entranced, as her long eyelashes moved up and down as she blinked. Had they always been so long? Perhaps it was some sort of magical mascara. He reached up to brush his fingers across his own eyelashes to compare. Did he even have eyelashes? He couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t seem very important. His fingers drifted up to trace the spot where his eyebrow should be.

“What are you doing, weirdo? Are you listening to me?” She giggled, and her laughter bubbled up and pierced Sirius’s dreamy introspection, so that he stopped stroking his eyebrow ( _ Of course it’s there, you bloody idiot)  _ and focused instead on Mary. He noticed she was now flat on her back with her hair fanned out around her head.

“Sorry, what did you say?” He shifted his arm and his fingers grazed hers. Without thinking he grasped her hand, more to keep himself moored and grounded than to express romantic feelings, because he felt that if he didn’t hold onto something he might float away.

“I said…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes widened as she felt the warmth of his hand on hers, and she seemed to lose her train of thought completely. “Hang on, what the fuck was I saying? Oh, I was asking how many other girls you’ve shagged in here.”

“None.” He did not release her hand; he now felt that they had become fused together, and to sever the bond was somehow wrong. “Unless my hand counts.” He held up his hand and scrutinized it as he bent and unbent each long finger.

She burst into laughter. “Ugh, no, that doesn’t count,” she replied as she tried in vain to get herself under control. 

“Bloody hell, it's not that funny.” Her laughter washed over him and lapped at the edges of his mind, so that before he knew it he started laughing, too, and found himself unable to stop. The laughter seemed to go on forever, and when they finally fell silent he had to catch his breath before speaking. 

“Thanks for the housewarming gift,” he said. “Your bloke doesn’t fuck around, does he?”

“There’s another joint, too,” she replied. Her eyes drifted down to their hands, still entwined even after their laughing fit.

“I don’t think we need it, to be honest,” Sirius replied. “I’m off my arse right now. I’m still not convinced I have eyelashes.”

“No, I don’t need it either. You should save it. Share it with James. Or Peter or Remus.” She tilted her head towards him. “What’s Remus like when he’s high?”

The Stairway to Heaven poster had caught Sirius’s attention again.

_ There walks a lady we all know _

_ Who shines white light and wants to show _

_ How everything still turns to gold _

He blinked several times to clear his head. “He’s, well, it depends on the day. Sometimes he just gets sleepy. But if it’s a good day he’ll either want to discuss deep hypothetical questions, like what does a boggart look like when it’s by itself, or he’ll laugh his arse off but won’t be able to explain why he’s laughing.”

“But what  _ does  _ a Boggart look like when it’s by itself?” she asked.

“No bloody idea,” Sirius replied. “I usually say it looks like my left arse cheek, and then he starts laughing and shifts from introspective high Remus to laughing like a bloody idiot high Remus.”

“I like Remus.” Mary draped her leg over Sirius’s as she spoke. “He’s… underrated. I don’t think that’s the right word, but that’s the only way I can think to explain it. Do you know what I mean?”

Sirius turned her words over in his mind. “I do know what you mean, actually. Or, I dunno, is underestimated a better word?”

“Maybe.” She slid her bare foot up and down his leg as she thought. It tickled, but Sirius didn’t mind. She started to speak, then hesitated for a moment before saying, “I do worry about him, sometimes, though.” She looked over and tried to catch Sirius’s eye, and for a wild moment he feared she would be able to see right into his mind and discover the secret he’d kept for the past four and a half years. “Should I?”

“Should you worry about him?” Sirius asked, and Mary nodded. He considered her question as his mind presented him with several vivid memories in short bursts: the fresh cuts on Remus’s face the morning after a full moon; Remus laughing at something James had said, his head thrown back and his face free of worry or pain; the way he sat, hunched over, hollowed out by fear in the minutes before a transformation; the way he could see Remus peering out of the wolf’s eyes when they raced across the school grounds together, their paths illuminated by the light of the moon. “No,” he replied eventually. “What good is worrying going to do? Besides, he’s tougher than he looks.”

“That’s what I thought you would say,” Mary said. “I expect you could say more, but if you told me you’d have to kill me?”

“Something like that,” Sirius agreed. After that, the two fell silent for a while, listening to the sounds of Diagon Alley as the last remnants of daylight faded around them. Now, shrouded in darkness, Sirius could not see Mary at all, yet the sensation of her hand in his brought him more comfort than he cared to think about.

“I’m glad you’re here, Macdonald,” he said, but his voice sounded so foreign and quiet that he couldn’t tell if he’d actually spoken the words aloud until he heard her reply.

“Me too.” She leaned over and kissed him, and the soft press of her lips against his brought him back to himself. He no longer felt that he might float away at any moment, but instead he was fully present in his body, every sensation heightened, every movement and sound pleasurable and intense. She pulled him on top of her, and he was sure that if he gave in, they would somehow meld into one person. He resisted for a moment, then surrendered and let go of everything as he closed his eyes and tangled his hands in her hair. They melted together, dissolving into the bed and he couldn’t believe how bloody fucking brilliant it was, and that was his last coherent thought before he lost himself in her.


	2. When I Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was heavily inspired by the song "When I Die" by Quinn XCII (I may have listened to it at least ten times while writing the scene).

“If I don’t get my pancakes for the family at table three soon I might have to murder someone. Oh, and I think your bloke at nine needs more coffee - actually, table ten needs more coffee as well, and would you mind clearing all three booths by the window because apparently Jack’s decided showing up to work is optional, the prat. Sorry, I know you’re supposed to be off in ten minutes, but if you could manage all that before you go it would be a huge help, because I’m about to lose my mind here and I’ve still got four hours of my shift left to go.” She finally paused to draw breath, then scowled when Mary failed to reply but continued to stare out the window. “Did you hear anything I just said, love?” When this elicited no response, she continued, “Mary?”

Mary snapped her head around and gave the waitress an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Liza! What were you saying? Table nine needs his pancakes?” She looked across the restaurant at the table in question, frowning.

“No, love, the pancakes are for my table, although I’m starting to think I’m going to have to go into the kitchen and make them myself,” Liza replied, then proceeded to repeat her instructions with a touch of exasperation. “What’s got you so distracted, anyway?” She lowered her voice. “Is it your mum? She hasn’t started bringing around some new boyfriend, has she? She hasn’t mentioned anything to me, but then again, I don’t think she would, not after I told her the last one was no good and she’d be well shot of him.” She shook her head and sighed.

“No, it’s not my mum. It’s just, er, a friend of mine is meant to be picking me up after my shift, so I’ve been keeping an eye out for him,” Mary explained, again glancing out the window at the street beyond. She set to work clearing one of the booths, stacking plates sticky with syrup and wiping coffee rings and a blob of ketchup from the cheap plastic surface. 

“Ooh, it’s a _he_?” Liza asked, her eyes widening in interest as she collected oatmeal-crusted bowls from the neighboring booth. “Is he your boyfriend? I’ll keep an eye out for him too. What sort of car does he drive?” 

Mary rolled her eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a friend.” Liza raised her eyebrows and fixed Mary with an appraising stare, her hands on her ample hips. “All right, he’s a bit more than a friend,” Mary admitted with a sigh. “But he’s definitely not my boyfriend. Anyway, he drives a motorbike, not a car.”

“Mary Macdonald!” Liza adjusted her glasses and continued to stare at Mary, but her expression now revealed surprised admiration. “Are you telling me you’ve fallen for a bad boy?”

“I haven’t fallen for anyone,” Mary protested, but Liza ignored her.

“He has a motorbike? Let me guess, he wears a leather jacket and smokes? Kind of brooding and mysterious, gets into fights, has at least one tattoo?”

“He doesn’t have any tattoos,” Mary said with a grin. “Otherwise, that’s Sirius Black to a T.”

“Sirius Black.” Liza mulled the name over, letting it roll off her tongue. “I like it. He sounds sexy.” The roar of a motorbike drifted in through the open window, and Liza stared out in unabashed curiosity. “Is that him, then? Christ, Mary, why _isn’t_ he your boyfriend? A pretty girl like you, with a boy like _him_? You’d make a lovely couple.”

Mary glanced out the window and spotted Sirius, leaning against a parking meter and looking decidedly cool in his dark sunglasses and ripped jeans. He wore his leather jacket unzipped to reveal the rock band t-shirt underneath, and even from far away Mary could see how the thin cotton rode up to reveal his flat stomach as he lit a cigarette. Still, he wasn’t a “bad boy,” no matter what Liza said, because that was too cliche, too predictable. Falling for a bad boy was something Melanie would do, and no matter how many bad decisions Mary made, she had decided long ago that she would never be like her mother. 

Liza noticed the direction of Mary’s gaze and smiled. “Go ahead, I’ve got it.” The faint sound of a bell ringing sounded from the kitchen, and Liza’s smile broadened. “And what do you know, maybe I won’t need to go in the kitchen and make my own pancakes after all. Have fun with your Sirius Black, and tell me all about it later, won’t you, love?” She bustled away, giving Mary a wink over her shoulder as she went. 

Grinning, Mary grabbed her drawstring backpack from the row of hooks in the back room, then waved to the other waitresses and left the cafe before anyone could ask her to clear another table or top off someone’s coffee or bring a couple of sugar packets to the perverted old man in the corner booth. She caught Sirius’s eye and waved, then waited for a line of cars to pass before hurrying across the street.

“Hello, Black,” she said, hanging back for a moment before deciding she didn’t give a monkey’s. She hooked a finger through his belt loop and buried her other hand in his hair, then kissed him deeply. He tasted of chocolate and cigarettes, and she found the combination so intoxicating that it almost took her breath away. Finally she pulled away, her cheeks flushed and the familiar scent of him, a combination of soap and leather, now lingering on her skin. 

“Hi, Macdonald,” Sirius said, his hand still on the small of her back. “Did you miss me?” Before she had time to respond, he had shed his jacket and pushed up the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Look, James and I got tattoos!” A large Gryffindor crest now decorated his upper arm, and Mary watched, transfixed, as he flexed and the lion began to roar.

“That’s brilliant! What did James get?” she asked as she continued to admire the tattoo. The red and gold ink on his lean, toned arm, his dark t-shirt and leather jacket, his sunglasses and the lit cigarette pressed between his lips, his hair falling into his eyes with the motorcycle behind him: all these elements came together to create an irresistible effect, and with a giggle Mary realized Liza had been right after all.

“He got - hang on, why are you laughing?” Sirius asked, frowning.

She shook her head. “Nothing, never mind. Sorry, what did James get? Wait, let me guess, your name on his left arse cheek?”

“It’s the right, actually,” Sirius, grinning. “Now, can you tell me why that woman in your cafe is staring at us out the window?” He gestured across the street, where Liza could clearly be seen watching them with her forehead pressed against the glass. When she noticed them looking, she waved and pointed at something and gave a thumbs up.

“That’s Liza,” Mary explained. “I think she likes your tattoo.” She tugged at the leather jacket Sirius had tucked under his arm, then slipped it on over her uniform. “What do you think, should I get a leather jacket of my own? Do I pull it off?”

Sirius looked her up and down, then nodded. “Oh yeah. It looks great with your waitress outfit, which is quite sexy, by the way. No wonder all the perverted old blokes stare down your shirt - how could they not?” 

He hopped onto the motorbike and she followed, wrapping her arms around his waist and relishing the warm leather seat against the skin of her thighs, barely covered by her short uniform. As he revved the engine and took off down the street, she closed her eyes and left it all behind: the cafe with its rude customers and crumby plates and constant lack of adequate staff; the apartment building’s flickering lightbulbs and stained carpets and hallways stinking of cigarettes and mold; her flat, full of dirty dishes she hadn’t had time to wash and empty gin bottles that didn’t fit into the overflowing rubbish bin and her mother, caught in the cycle of drunken nights and unsuccessful relationships that made up most of her life. Mary took a deep breath and put it all out of her mind, focusing on the wind in her hair and her arms around Sirius’s waist and the thrill of hurtling down the road at a speed faster than any normal Muggle vehicle could manage.

When they drew to a stop in front of Sirius’s flat, Mary followed as he wheeled the motorbike into the little shed in the back garden. Inside it smelled strongly of cigarettes, and parchment bearing various diagrams and scribbled notes covered the small table in the corner. Mary picked up one scrap of parchment, leaning against the table as she examined a detailed drawing of a motorbike with various parts labeled and several incantations written next to arrows pointing upwards. Beneath all of this, someone had written in large bubble letters “SIRIUS BLACK IS A TOSSER.”

“That’s nice, you’ve written yourself a motivational note,” Mary said, showing him the parchment.

“James thinks he’s hilarious,” Sirius replied, glancing at the parchment and grinning. “But we’ve almost got it to fly. Well, we have gotten it to fly, but it’s not 100% reliable yet. I’d say I’ll be ready to take you flying next time I pick you up.”

“Brilliant.” The afternoon sunlight streamed through the little window and warmed the stuffy air inside the shed, and Mary slipped off the leather jacket and draped it over her arm. “Shall we go inside, then?”

Sirius looked at her, a wicked smile spreading over his face as his eyes traveled slowly down her body, then shut the door and shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think so.” He reached behind her and swept the parchment onto the floor, then lifted her up so that she sat on the edge of the table. The change in position caused her dress to ride up, exposing her thighs and a hint of her lacey black knickers, and the expression on Sirius’s face revealed that this had been no accident. She reached out, winding a hand through his hair and pulling him towards her. When their lips met, his grip on her waist tightened, and she could hear his breathing quicken as she reached under his shirt to trail her fingers up and down his chest. She kissed his neck, then murmured, “What if the old bloke who owns the shop below your flat comes to bring his rubbish out and sees us through the window?”

Sirius’s hand drifted down to her thigh, pushing up her dress so that the fabric bunched around her waist and her knickers were now fully on display. “I fucking hope he sees. We’ll give him a show.” 

“You’re such a weirdo,” she said as she fumbled with his belt buckle, but her words were cut off by an involuntary gasp of pleasure and anticipation as she felt him push aside the thin fabric of her knickers, and all thoughts of the elderly shop owner were forgotten as she dug her nails into the small of Sirius’s back.

“I think one of your diagrams is stuck to my arse,” Mary observed later, pulling a crumpled piece of parchment from underneath her and peering at it. “Bloody hell, what is this? ‘Your hair is red, your eyes are green, you have the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen’?” She looked up from the parchment and widened her eyes, shaking with silent laughter. 

“Fucking hell, I forgot about that,” Sirius said, taking the parchment from her. “James and I smoked that other joint, and he got it in his head that he was going to write a poem for Evans. He woke up the next morning and made me promise to burn it, but obviously I wasn’t going to deprive the world of something so hilarious.” He grinned, scanning the parchment for a favorite line to read aloud. “Oh, I love this bit: ‘You love to eat grass-flavored Bertie Botts, if you ask me how much I love you I’d say lots.’ Merlin, can we keep this and read it at their wedding?”

“If we don’t, I’ll be extremely disappointed,” Mary replied, pulling open the door and stepping through into the bright afternoon. “Come on, let’s go up to your flat. Do you have any food? I’m starving.”

“Er, if you consider a jar of peanut butter and half a box of Bertie Botts food, then yes,” Sirius said, leading the way across the small garden and up the stairs to his flat. “What?” he added when he glanced back and saw her expression. “I had plenty of food, but then, well, I ate it.”

“So what have you been doing? Just getting takeaways for every meal?” 

When Sirius opened the door and ushered her inside, she got the answer to her question. Empty takeaway boxes, candy wrappers, and dirty dishes covered the kitchen counter and coffee table. More dirty dishes filled the sink, and a half-empty firewhisky bottle lay on its side in front of the couch. She took a step and something crunched under her shoe; she picked her foot up to reveal an open bag of crisps.

“Bloody hell, Black.” She stooped to pick up the crisps bag, then had to use her foot to push down the refuse overflowing from the rubbish bin before she could throw it away. “It’s a fucking pigsty in here. How can you stand to live like this?” 

Sirius scanned the room, taking in the accumulated remnants of lazy afternoons and drunken evenings as a sheepish smile spread across his face. “All right, I suppose it’s a bit messy. I’ve never had to do my own cleaning before, and I can’t say I’m a fan.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you have some parchment? Oh, never mind.” She snatched up a quill from the kitchen table and dipped it into a spilled puddle of ink that had dripped out of the overturned bottle, then began scribbling on a spare bit of parchment she’d found under a Chinese takeaway box. After a minute, she handed the parchment to Sirius and began tying up the bulging rubbish bag.

“What’s this?” Sirius asked as he accepted the parchment and watched in amusement as she struggled to pull the bag of rubbish from the bin, nearly falling over when she finally managed to pull it free.

“It’s a bloody shopping list, what does it look like?” she replied, thrusting the bag at him before rummaging through drawers and cabinets to find another bag.

“Hang on, why’ve you listed ‘a brain’ and ‘a life’ as items to buy?” He rolled his eyes. “Very funny.”

“Yes, I thought so,” she said with a grin. “You go get some food, and I’ll tidy up while you’re out. And take this out while you’re at it.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Sirius protested. “I don’t mind the mess, honestly.”

“ _I_ mind it.” She pulled a box of bin bags from under the sink and stuffed a new one into the rubbish bin, then reached into the sink, careful not to topple the precarious stack of dishes caked with bits of what looked like egg, spaghetti, and chocolate cake. “Shit, I should have asked if you even own a sponge before I stuck my hand in here.”

Sirius tilted his head to the side and frowned. “I think I do…” He shifted the bin bag so he could pull his wand from his pocket, then said, “ _Accio sponge!”_ A dripping sponge flew up from the bottom of the sink, dislodging a spoon and a coffee mug before landing on the counter with a squelch. “See, I’m not a complete savage, Macdonald, give me some credit.” He grinned, then pointed his wand at the bin bag and began levitating it down the stairs. “Be back in a bit!”

Mary shook her head and pushed a piece of hair out of her face, then immediately regretted it as she felt droplets of old dishwater spattering her face. “I suppose this is what happens when you’ve had house elves to do everything your whole life,” she muttered as she turned on some music, found a bottle of dish soap under the sink, and dove into the mountain of dishes.

The familiar chords of David Bowie’s “Starman” greeted Sirius as he burst through the door with several shopping bags hanging from each arm. He set down the bags on the kitchen table and surveyed the flat. The dishes had been washed, dried, and put away, and the sink was scrubbed of all traces of old food and soap scum. The takeaway boxes were nowhere in sight, and the sticky rings and crumbs had been wiped from all the surfaces. He peeked in the bedroom; no sign of Mary, but he noted with surprise that the jumbled mess of blankets and pillows had been wrestled into a neatly-made bed. He caught the unapologetically offkey tone of her voice rising above the strains of the music, and he followed the sound to the bathroom to find Mary on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor and belting out the lyrics at the top of her lungs.

“Macdonald, who sings this song?” Sirius asked, grinning.

“David Bowie,” she replied, blowing a strand of hair out of her face and continuing to scrub. The hot, soapy water and vigorous scrubbing had reddened her hands and soaked the front of her shirt, but she wore an expression of grim satisfaction. Cleaning gave her a sense of control, of creating order from chaos, as if each stroke of the scrub brush removed a bit of the instability and disorder of her home life and not just the grime on the bathroom tile.

“Let’s keep it that way,” Sirius quipped, and Mary was so engrossed in her systematic assault on the grimy floor that it took her a moment to register what he’d said. 

“I can’t believe I fell for that,” she replied, returning his grin.

“I’m just saying, I think it’s disrespectful to Bowie to butcher his music that way.”

“Sod off.” She chucked the scrub brush at him, but he snatched it out of the air and tossed it into the sink.

“Spending six years being friends with James does wonders for one's hand-eye coordination,” Sirius explained, wiping his sudsy hands on his trousers. “He chucks a Quaffle at my face without any warning at least once a week.” He held out his hand to her. “Come on, you’ve done enough cleaning for the day. The floor’s probably clean enough to eat off of at this point.”

She grasped his hand and let him pull her to her feet. “Well, that’s not saying much, seeing as you’ve been known to eat food that’s been dropped on the floor.” She headed for the kitchen, her legs stiff after kneeling for so long, and began pulling items from the shopping bags. 

“I thought you said you couldn’t cook?” Sirius asked, watching as she took bread, butter, eggs, and bacon from the shopping bag and began searching through the cabinets for a frying pan.

“I’ve learned a bit. The cooks at work can’t seem to show up for their shifts lately, so they’ve trained me in the kitchen. I’ve only done breakfast, so I hope you don’t mind.” She set two frying pans on the stove and turned on the burners, then set strips of bacon in one pan and cracked an egg into the other. “I’m still not great at flipping eggs, though.” She found a spatula in a drawer and carefully slid it under the egg. “Fucking hell, see what I mean?” She gestured down at the egg, which was now oozing yellow yolk after her unsuccessful flip.

“Well, good thing I’ll eat almost anything,” Sirius said with a shrug. 

They took their plates of food out onto the balcony to eat, sitting on plastic patio chairs with their plates balanced on their laps. The setting sun bathed the buildings of Diagon Alley in a hazy glow, and the music from inside the flat drifted out and blended with the sounds of the street below. Mary chewed the last bite of her meal and set her plate on the ground by her feet, then glanced over at Sirius leaning back in his chair and wondered idly how he never tipped over backwards.

“I brought us something,” she said, retrieving the joint she’d tucked in her front pocket. “Shit, I’ve crushed it a bit, but I think it’s still okay.”

Sirius set down his plate, then pulled his wand from his pocket to light the joint. “Did you have to shag the dealer bloke to get this one?” he asked, taking the joint from her and putting it to his lips, then lighting it and taking a long drag.

“Sod off,” she replied, accepting the proffered joint and putting it to her lips before inhaling slowly. She kept the smoke in her lungs as long as she could stand it, then exhaled, managing not to cough this time. “I only snogged him a bit.”

“I hope you’re not holding back on my account.” Sirius hit the joint again, his face set in an expression of concentration as he held the smoke in his lungs, then released it with a sigh of satisfaction. “Go ahead and shag him. Merlin, he deserves it for providing such high-quality product.”

“Glad I have your blessing, Black,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “And if you must know, I was considering shagging him, but my mum came home and caused a bloody scene, so I told him he’d better go.”

“Damnit, Melanie,” Sirius said. “Getting in the way of your shagging opportunities.”

“It was probably for the best. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but that was only because I was bored and horny. He seems like the sort to get a bit clingy, so I suppose my mum did me a favor. “

“Fair enough,” Sirius replied.

They fell silent, passing the joint back and forth as the weak light faded and the air grew chillier. Eventually, Sirius stubbed out what was left of the joint and dropped it into the ashtray that rested by his feet, then ran his hand up and down Mary’s arm.

“Come on, let’s go inside. You look cold,” he said. 

Mary glanced down at her arm and saw that she was covered in goosebumps. She had been completely unaware of the change in temperature, but now that she noticed it she wanted nothing more than to curl up in Sirius’s bed with the blankets piled on top of her and Sirius’s warm arms wrapped around her. She looked over at him, noticing how the dying light reflected in his grey eyes, and she found herself unable to tear her gaze away from them. She studied their color, almost blue but not quite, with flecks of gold and brown, surrounding the inky black pupils that seemed impossibly large and round, but she supposed that must be the effect of the marijuana. Eyes are the window to your soul, wasn’t that a cliche thing people often said? She stared into his pupils; they seemed bottomless, and she felt momentarily dizzy, as if one misstep would send her plummeting, tumbling, plunging forever. _I’m high,_ she thought. _I’m only thinking this because I’m high._ Yet even as she thought this she kept her eyes fixed on Sirius’s, unable to move (or blink? Was she blinking?).

“Macdonald, you’re staring at me,” Sirius observed. 

“Am I?” She blinked, feeling as if she’d been yanked violently backwards, then realized with relief that she was blinking, and this thought made her feel slightly more normal and lucid.

“Is it because I don’t have eyelashes again?” Sirius asked, his hand flying to his face to check.

She frowned, trying to form an answer, but couldn’t find the words to explain her thought process. He shrugged, then stood and stretched his cramped limbs, before grabbing her hand and leading her through the sliding door and across the flat into the bedroom. He kicked off his shoes, then slipped underneath the covers. Mary wanted to join him, but couldn’t seem to make the move from the floor to the bed without his hand to guide her. Now that she was at a standstill, she felt that any sudden movements might loosen her fragile hold on reality.

“Macdonald?” Sirius asked as he tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor. “You all right?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied honestly. She moved her foot forward, and the distance felt enormous - surely this was enough to get her to the bed - but when she looked down she realized she hadn’t moved at all.

Sirius grinned, then sat up and reached for her. “Come here.” He wrapped her hand in his, then gently guided her down onto the bed. “You’re getting that sort of disconnected feeling, aren’t you, like nothing’s keeping you on the ground and you might drift away at any moment?”

She stared at him for a moment, then nodded.

“Yeah, I felt like that last time. Actually, I feel a bit like that now, to be honest. But it’s all right. I’ve got you, and you’ve got me. We’ll keep each other grounded.” He tucked the blankets around her, then leaned down and kissed her. “All right?”

She closed her eyes, breathing in his familiar scent and letting the pillow and mattress cushion her body as the blankets wrapped around her provided a sense of security. “All right,” she replied, opening her eyes and rolling toward him. She rested a hand on his chest, tracing the scar that had become so familiar to her, and ran her other hand through his hair before pressing herself against him. As long as she held onto him, she felt safe, so she clung to him and enjoyed the feeling of her skin against his, and the pressure of his fingers, and the way their bodies fit together without even having to think about it.

“Macdonald?” Sirius asked. It could have been minutes or hours later; Mary had lost her hold on the concept of time.

“Hmmm?” She picked up her head an inch to look at him, her eyelids half shut and trying to focus in the mostly-dark bedroom. When holding her head up became too much effort, she lay back against his chest and ran her finger up and down his scar. She liked the way it felt against her fingertip, slightly raised but smooth, mysterious yet commonplace.

“You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes right before you die?” Sirius dangled his arm over the side of the bed to retrieve his cigarettes and wand from his pocket, then lit a cigarette before handing one to Mary. “Do you think it’s your entire life, the good and the bad? Because not only would that take a bloody long time, but I’m all set with reliving the bad parts, thanks very much.” He took a long drag on his cigarette, then exhaled, watching the smoke rise up towards the ceiling.

“I’ve never thought about it,” Mary replied, lighting her cigarette and glancing over at Sirius. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, and his mouth was drawn into a pensive frown. “Are you doing that introspective, deep thinking thing Remus does?”

“Maybe.” Sirius’s lips twitched into a tiny smile. “But I don’t give a damn what a bloody boggart looks like alone, I just want to know what you think about right before you die. I think it’d be nice to relive maybe your four or five best memories of all time.” He glanced over at her. “Don’t you?”

“I suppose.” She turned this over in her head for a moment. “What would those memories be for you?” As soon as she’d asked, she wished she hadn’t spoken. “Sorry, that’s a bit, er, talk about your feelings-y. Feel free to not answer and tell me to sod off.”

Sirius chuckled. “Nah, it’s all right. I don’t think it counts as talking about your feelings if you’re high. It’s just, you know, high thoughts. But if I tell you mine, you have to share yours.”

She grinned. “All right, deal.”

He fell silent for a moment, apparently considering her question. “I think one of them would be this past Christmas Eve that I spent with the Potters. It was nothing special, just a normal Christmas Eve, but…” His voice trailed off.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain why. One of mine would be Christmas Eve, too, but this was ages ago. I was probably six or seven, and I don’t even remember it all that well, except that it snowed and my mum and I made biscuits.” She smiled at the memory, seeing the snow falling outside the flat window and remembering the way the warm chocolate biscuits almost melted in her mouth.

“That sounds nice,” Sirius replied. “I think another one would be that night we snuck into Hogsmeade for Evans’s 17th birthday, and one of us slipped or something and we all ended up on the ground, laughing our arses off and staring up at the stars. Do you remember that?”

“I do, actually. I can’t believe _you_ remember it. I dunno why I do, except James said that sentimental rubbish about it being one of those, how did he put it-”

“‘Perfect moments,’” Sirius supplied. “And he told us to file it away to remember later when things aren’t as perfect. He’s a fucking sentimental sod, but that stuck with me for some reason.”

“Me too.” She closed her eyes and could almost feel the icy ground beneath her back, could almost taste the firewhisky on her lips and hear the bright, ringing sound of Lily’s laughter. “You know, I think that would be one of the memories I’d choose, as well.”

“Bloody hell, Macdonald, you’re not supposed to copy me,” Sirius said, toying with one of her curls. “But I suppose I’ll let that one slide.” He started to say something else, but fell silent, a slight frown creasing his face. “I can’t really tell you about my next one, except that it involves me, James, Remus, and Peter and a secret we share that sorts of binds us together as friends.” He laughed. “Fuck, it sounds stupid when I say it like that. I promise it’s cooler if I could actually tell you.”  
“That’s all right, I’ll just fill in the blanks and imagine it involves a time Remus walked in on you changing and saw you wearing lacy women’s knickers or something,” she replied, grinning.

“It’s cooler than that, although don’t lie, I’d look bloody sexy in lace knickers.” 

“I’d have to see it before I can decide.” She wrapped a lock of hair around her finger as she thought. “I think another one of mine would be this time I stayed at Lily’s house. We got drunk on liquor we stole from her parents, and we laughed like idiots about absolutely nothing and stayed up all night. I think it was around four in the morning, and she’d just finished telling me about something horrible her sister had done-”

“Her sister is a miserable fucking bitch,” Sirius interrupted.

“Well, yes, she is,” Mary agreed. “Anyway, she turned to me and put her hand on my shoulder and said, ‘Bloody hell, Mary, why couldn’t you be my sister instead?’” She took a deep breath, momentarily overcome by the emotions invoked by this memory.

“Fucking hell, Macdonald, are you trying to make me cry?” Sirius asked. “Not that I’m going to, but if I was a sentimental sod like James, I’d probably be in tears.” He glanced at the cigarette that dangled from his fingers, as if he’d forgotten about it, and tapped the ash onto the bedroom floor before taking a drag. “It’s funny, isn’t it? Evans and I are the only ones out of all of us with siblings, but we’d both be better off as only children, wouldn’t we?”

“I don’t know if it’s funny, but it’s… ironic?” She frowned. “Or, I dunno, is it? I never know.”

“I’m too off my arse to properly answer that question.” Sirius took another drag on his cigarette, then reached over Mary to drop it into the ashtray on his bedside table. “I was thinking of maybe choosing a memory with my brother, when we were both really young, but now that I think about it, sod him.” He lay back against his pillow for a moment, watching the rise and fall of Mary’s chest and the slow curl of the smoke from her cigarette. “I think the last memory I’d choose is this.” 

Mary turned her head to look at him quizzically. “What do you mean?” 

“This moment, right here. With the wind moving the curtains, and your head on my chest, and us just laying here naked, being lazy, smoking cigarettes and swapping memories - it’s fucking perfect.” He glanced at her. “Go ahead, call me a sentimental sod, I fucking deserve it.”

She didn’t speak for several seconds. Finally, she sat up and looked him in the eye. “I’d pick this moment too. You’re right, it’s, well, it’s just perfect.” She laughed, then lay back down with her curls spread across his chest. “Does this just feel more profound than it really is because we’re high?”

Sirius draped his arm over her and kissed her forehead. “Probably. Don’t tell anyone, yeah? I don’t want anyone accusing me of being the type of idiot who likes to talk about my feelings.”

“‘Course not,” she assured him. “That’s only one step away from being the sort of idiot who likes going to Madam Puddifoot’s.”

“Exactly,” Sirius said, shuddering. “Don’t ever let me become that sort of idiot, all right, Macdonald?”

“Yeah, all right,” she said, letting her heavy eyelids drift shut. “As long as you do the same for me.”


	3. This song speaks to my fucking soul

“Oi! Handsome!” 

Sirius looked around in surprise and spotted Melanie standing outside the cafe, smoking a cigarette and waving. He grinned and waved back, then parked his motorbike and crossed the street to join her. She wore the same waitress uniform Mary sported for her shifts, and her eyes lacked the glassy, alcohol-induced sheen they had held the last time he’d seen her.

“Hello, love,” she said, offering him a cigarette, but he declined and shook one out of his own pack instead. “I just got off work. Mary can’t leave for another hour or so, I’m afraid. They’ve got her in the kitchen to cover for one of the cooks who didn’t show up again.” She took a long drag on her cigarette then blew the smoke out in a long stream, and Sirius noticed a bright pink smudge left behind where her lips had been. “So I suppose I’ll just have to keep you company until her shift ends.”

Sirius lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply, then released the smoke and raised his eyebrows at Melanie. “You up for a ride?” He pointed across the street at his motorbike, and Melanie followed his gaze. The afternoon sunlight glinted off the sleek black paint, and the two couldn’t help but stare in admiration.

“I’d love that,” Melanie replied, and she followed him across the street, tossing her cigarette onto the ground. Sirius shed his leather jacket and handed it to Melanie, and the way she wore it with confidence even though it hung off her thin frame reminded him strongly of Mary. After they both climbed onto the motorbike, he turned the ignition and she wrapped her arms around his waist. 

“You ready?” he asked, turning to face her and shouting to be heard over the engine. She said nothing, merely nodded and tightened her grip on his waist. He noticed that her hands rested slightly lower than they needed to, but he didn’t adjust them (although if they drifted any lower it would become an unsafe distraction). Instead, he gave the motorbike some gas and took off down the street, avoiding parked cars and pedestrians and causing one old lady to shake her fist at him.

After their ride ended, Sirius parked the motorbike in front of the flat and spotted Mary seated on the curb, her usual drawstring bag slung across her back and a scowl on her face. She stood and strode over to them, her arms crossed.

“Mum, did you con him into taking you for a ride?” she asked, torn between irritation and amusement.

“Nah, it’s all right, I offered,” Sirius explained, helping Melanie off the bike. She let her hand linger on his a little longer than was necessary. The wind had tousled her hair and her eyes were bright with residual exhilaration. 

“Mary, that thing bloody _goes_ ,” she gushed, attempting to run a hand through her tangled hair. “But Sirius really knows how to handle it. We were weaving in and out of traffic like it was nothing - you should have seen that old bitch from down the street yelling at us when she thought we were about to run her over.”

“Bloody hell, she’s probably called the police on you,” Mary said, rubbing her temples. She wore her hair up, but several curls had pulled free and fell around her face, and Sirius noticed a splotch of something sticky on her cheek.

“Well, if she has, that’s pretty shit response time,” Melanie said. “We’ve been gone ages.” She rested her hand on Sirius’s shoulder and smiled at him, an expression that took years off her face. “Thanks for the ride, Sirius, it was brilliant.” She slipped off the leather jacket and handed it back to him.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” he replied. “Maybe next time we can take it in the air, if you’re up for it.”

“Course I’m bloody up for it.” She turned to Mary. “Have fun, love, and make sure to use a condom. Or, I dunno, whatever wizards use. A magical condom?” 

“Goodbye, Mum,” Mary said pointedly, and Melanie waved and headed into the flat, lighting a cigarette as she went.

“Shit,” Sirius muttered, and Mary raised her eyebrows at him. “I forgot to stock up on magical condoms.”

“Sod you.” She leaned in to kiss him, and he detected various kitchen scents clinging to her skin. 

“You smell like bacon,” he observed, pressing his nose to her hair and inhaling.

“Sorry, they had me in the kitchen today.” She let her hair down and held a piece under her nose. “Ugh, you’re right. I can go take a quick shower if you don’t mind waiting.”

“Are you kidding? I fucking love bacon. I think you smell great.” He reached over and touched the sticky smear on her cheek, then put his finger to his tongue. “And there’s syrup on your face.” He ran his tongue up and down her face until she pushed him off, laughing.

“You’re a freak, Black, you know that?” She gathered her hair back up into a ponytail, then wiped the remnants of syrup and saliva from her face.

“I thought that’s what you liked about me.” He pulled something from the compartment under the seat of the motorbike and held it out to her. “I almost forgot. I got this for you.”

She took it and held it up to examine it, her face splitting into a grin as she admired the red leather jacket.

“I thought it would make sense for you to have your own,” Sirius explained. “But I didn’t want us to look too matchy, because that seemed a bit uncool. I thought you’d look good in red.” He touched one of the zippered pockets. “I’ve done an Undetectable Extension Charm on this pocket, so you can fit your wand and all the useless rubbish girls keep with them.”

Mary ran a finger along the soft leather, then frowned. “But this is a gift. A really nice, expensive gift, and we don’t get each other gifts.”

“Oh, shut up and put it on, Macdonald. I saw it in the shop and thought it would look good on you as well as on my floor, and it’ll come in handy when we ride the motorbike so I don’t have to keep giving you my jacket, and that’s the end of it.” He stood looking at her with his hands in his pockets, so she gave in and threw on the jacket over her uniform. It hugged her frame and accented her curves perfectly, and the cherry-red leather contrasted nicely with her dark hair.

“It’s one of the best gifts anyone’s ever given me,” she said, toying with the silver zipper on the jacket. “I look excellent in it, don’t I?”

“You do,” Sirius confirmed. “I knew you would. Hop on, then. We’re going flying today.” He mounted the motorbike, and she followed suit.

“Bloody hell, really?” she asked, placing her hands around his waist. “Isn’t it risky, though? Won’t we be seen?”

“I’ve installed an invisibility booster, Macdonald. Honestly, give me a bit of credit, won’t you?” He shook his head in exasperation. “What kind of bloody idiot do you think I am?”

“Well, you were just licking my face,” she pointed out, letting her hand creep down to settle on his belt buckle.

“Macdonald, you’re almost as bad as your mum,” Sirius protested, although he didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Merlin, what did she do? Actually, never mind, don’t tell me. I don’t want to vomit and ruin my first flying experience.”

“Suit yourself,” Sirius said, chuckling, and he started the motorbike.

Once they left Mary’s neighborhood behind, giving the disgruntled old woman a friendly wave as they passed her, Sirius took the motorbike down various unlikely streets in search of the right moment to activate the invisibility feature. Disappearing while ten Muggles looked on somewhat defeated the purpose of invisibility in the first place, so he drove down increasingly sketchy and narrow roads until he found one that was completely deserted. Grinning in spite of himself, he pressed a button and shifted gears, then gave the motorbike some gas and steered it upwards. When the wheels left the ground, he felt a delicious leap in the pit of his stomach and felt Mary’s grip on his waist tighten. He could tell, just from the slight increase in the pressure of her fingers, that she felt the exact same way he did.

He took it slow until they were past even the tallest buildings, then sped up as he took the motorbike higher and higher. He shivered as they flew through a cloud, letting the motorbike continue to climb until he couldn’t hold back any longer. He turned off the invisibility booster and straightened out, then revved the engine and accelerated until he could see only the faint blur of clouds and the occasional strand of hair whipping his face. At this speed, at this altitude, he was no longer in control, not really. He preferred it that way, trusting the motorcycle almost like it was sentient, because at this point he had poured so much of himself into modifying and tinkering with it that it was almost an extension of himself. 

He risked a glance over his shoulder at Mary. The wind had pulled her hair from its ponytail and it streamed out behind her, sparkling with water droplets from the cloud. Her head was thrown back and a wide smile spread across her face. Her eyes widened and she shouted, “Look where you’re going, you lunatic!”

He grinned at her. “Why? There’s not much to run into up here!” he called over the deafening sound of the engine. “Hey, hold on tight, I’m going to do something.” Before she had time to reply, he sent the motorbike into a steep dive, then pulled up and executed several somersaults in midair.

“Bloody fucking hell!” he heard Mary exclaim, but her tone contained more exultation than fear. With her chest pressed against his back he couldn’t be sure if the pounding he felt was his own heart beating or hers. He did a few more flips, savoring the adrenaline rush he and Mary shared, before beginning to descend. He wouldn’t mind flying all night, but it would soon get chilly and dark, and the activities he had in mind for the rest of the evening could not easily be accomplished on a flying motorbike. 

When the motorbike finally touched down on a deserted street, a few light raindrops began to pepper their faces and dampen their clothing. After a few minutes, the drizzle had intensified into a downpour. Sirius pulled over and parked the motorbike under the shelter of a tree, then swung his leg over and dismounted the motorbike.

“What are you doing?” Mary asked, frowning. “Can’t we just do an _Impervius_ and keep going?” She unzipped her jacket pocket and reached for her wand.

“Yeah, we can,” Sirius replied, placing his hand on hers and ending her search. “But first I want to snog you.” He pushed her sopping hair back from her face and pushed aside her unzipped jacket to rest his hand on her chest, where her sodden uniform clung to her skin and didn’t leave much to the imagination, then leaned in and kissed her. The faint smell of bacon still lingered in her hair, and he found it irresistible, which would have amused him under different circumstances, but at this particular moment he was too focused on how transparent her dress had become to laugh.

Mary grinned and wiped raindrops from her forehead when Sirius eventually pulled away. 

“I’m soaked,” she complained, wringing water from her hair.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “I bet you are.”

She chuckled. “I meant from the rain.”

Sirius nodded. “Sure you did.” The rain had begun to let up, but he did an Impervius Charm anyway, then climbed back onto the motorbike and started up the engine. When they reached the flat it began to pour again, so they stowed the motorbike in the shed and dashed across the garden with their jackets thrown over their heads, dodging puddles as raindrops pelted their bodies. They pried off their drenched shoes by the doorway, and Sirius shook out his hair while Mary shielded her face, laughing. 

“You’re like a damn dog,” she said, removing her leather jacket and dropping it on the floor next to her shoes. “A big, obnoxious, wet, naughty dog.” She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. “Why is that so funny?”

“Never mind,” he replied, grinning. “You look half-frozen. Come on, we’ll take a nice hot shower to warm up.” He led the way to the bathroom, leaving wet footprints on the hardwood floors. He turned on the shower and let the steam fill the room, then peeled off his wet clothing and dropped them in a sodden heap on the floor before reaching over and lifting Mary’s soaked dress over her head.

“I’m capable of removing my own clothing, you know,” she protested.

“Yes, but it’s sexier when I do it,” he replied, reaching around to unhook her bra with one hand while using the other hand to slide down her knickers until they rested on the tiled floor by her feet. “Come on.” He pushed aside the shower curtain and stepped in, closing his eyes as the steam enveloped him and the hot water instantly drove the chill from his body.

“Don’t hog all the water,” Mary said as she stepped in beside him, leaning against him and letting the water wash over her. 

“Your bloody hair is always in my face.” He brushed aside her sodden curls and kissed her neck, blinking as droplets of water ran into his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. “You know, I’ve never shagged anyone in the shower before.”

She glanced back at him and raised her eyebrows, pressing herself against him. “Really? Not even your hand?”

He grinned and let his hand trail slowly down her stomach and trace her hip bone. “You told me that didn’t count.”

“It doesn’t,” she murmured before giving up on the conversation and succumbing to the heat of the water and the gentle pressure of his fingers on her skin.  
  


“I love thunderstorms,” Mary said. She lay sprawled on the bed, wrapped in a towel and gazing out the open window at the driving rain. As she watched, a brief flash of lighting lit the sky. “I like the way the air feels.”

“Are you thirsty?” Sirius asked, Summoning a bottle of wine and two glasses, then removing the cork and pouring a hefty measure into each glass. 

“You’re not even listening to me,” Mary said with a wry smile, accepting a glass and taking a sip. “Ooh, elf-made wine? Fancy.”

“The bloke down at Sozzle & Slosh talked me into it,” Sirius said. He sniffed his wine, wafting it with an exaggerated hand motion, then swirled it around the glass before taking a large sip. “Mmm. What a delightful vintage. It has a lovely oaky afterbirth.”

She snorted with laughter and almost choked on her wine. “You’re an idiot, Black.”

“But I’m an incredibly sexy and amusing idiot.” He drank more wine and leaned back against the headboard. “I think I fancy getting sloppy drunk tonight. You in?” He spotted an opened bar of Honeydukes chocolate on the floor and bent to retrieve it, breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth before washing it down with another swig of wine.

She sipped her wine and frowned. “I’m never opposed to getting drunk, but since we’re drinking wine, shouldn’t this be a more classy sort of drunk? Shouldn’t we, I dunno, hold our pinkies out and plan our next holiday in the Alps and talk shit about people who aren’t rich bitches like us?”

Sirius laughed, then downed the rest of his wine. “Ugh, that sounds like the sort of bloody awful cocktail party Walburga would force me to attend.” He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Besides, we are naked, eating stale, week-old chocolate and drinking out of novelty Chudley Cannons glasses. I think classy is the wrong word to describe this evening’s activities.”

“All right, that’s fair,” Mary conceded. She finished her wine, then reached for the bottle to refill both glasses. “Has that really been lying on your floor for a week?” 

Sirius examined the bar of chocolate, then shrugged. “Who the fuck knows. It tastes all right. You want some? Or are you too posh for chocolate of such dubious origins?”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, snatching it out of his hand and helping herself to a piece. “You’re right, it’s not bad. It goes nicely with our wine.” She took a sip to demonstrate her point.

“Oh, yes, this varietal should always be paired with a nougat-based chocolate aged for at least a week in partial sunlight,” Sirius said, finishing off the chocolate and tossing the wrapper onto the floor.

“I see you haven’t kept up with the cleaning,” Mary observed, eying the assortment of food wrappers and other rubbish littering the rug. 

“Hey, I cleaned up the living room this morning,” Sirius protested, taking a large sip of wine. “I took the rubbish out, too. I just didn’t get to the bedroom. Or the dishes.” He grinned. “It’s not my fault I’m a lazy arsehole.”

She shook her head in exasperation and drained her glass. “I think we’ve run out of wine.”

“Who do you think I am, Macdonald? I got two bottles.” He Summoned the second bottle and poured some into her glass, then topped off his own. “Two people can’t get sloppy drunk on just one bottle of wine.” He thought for a moment. “Well, maybe Flitwick and Remus could, but it’s definitely not enough for two delinquints like ourselves.” He clinked his glass against hers and took a sip.

They had gotten halfway through the second bottle of wine when Mary set down her empty glass on the bedside table and began rummaging through Sirius’s dresser.

“What are you doing?” Sirius drained the last drops of his wine and peered at her through the empty glass.

“I’m getting dressed. Then I’m going to put on some music,” Mary informed him, pulling on a pair of Chudley Cannons pajama bottoms and one of Remus’s old cardigans before heading for the living room. After a moment Sirius stood and pulled on his pants, then grabbed the bottle of wine and followed the sound of music. He found Mary leaning against the arm of the sofa, swaying to the music with her eyes halfway shut and a dreamy expression on her face. 

“You’re on a bit of a David Bowie kick, aren’t you?” Sirius observed, handing her the bottle of wine.

“It’s good drinking music,” she replied before taking a large gulp from the bottle. “It’s also great when you’re high. Damn, I’ve just remembered, I had a joint for us but I forgot to bring it.” She frowned. “My bloke said it’s better than anything he’s sold me before.”

“Well, bloody hell, Macdonald, why’d you have to tell me that?” Sirius shook his head and took another sip of wine. “You should have told me it’s Dan Dingle-quality, absolute rubbish.” He glanced sideways at her and raised his eyebrows. “Did you finally get around to shagging him? Is that why he gave you the good stuff?”

She met his gaze. “Don’t be jealous, Black.” Her tone was both defiant and teasing. “I did shag him, but that has nothing to do with the quality of the product he sold me. And before you ask, no, he’s not a ginger, although he is a bit of a tosser.” She flashed him a wry smile, then took another swig of wine.

Sirius chuckled. “Well, how was it? Mind blowing? Life changing?”

  
She shrugged. “It was… all right.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “The wine’s making me sleepy.”

“Well, that’s no good,” Sirius said, taking the bottle from her and finishing it. “Firewhisky will wake you up.” 

“Will it, though?” she asked doubtfully, but he was already retrieving the bottle of firewhisky from a cabinet in the kitchen. “What about you?” she continued when he returned, handing her the bottle. “How many other girls have you shagged this summer?”

“Don’t be jealous, Macdonald.” Sirius smirked and tugged the firewhisky bottle from her grasp, then took a long swallow. “I did run into Katie the other day,” he said, referring to the Hufflepuff girl he’d lost his virginity to several years prior. “She was quite eager. I barely finished telling her I’d gotten a flat before she was begging to come see it - said she’d give me some decorating tips.”

Mary laughed, leaning against Sirius for support. “Bloody hell, decorating tips? I feel like I should be able to make an innuendo out of that, but I’m too drunk.” She contained her laughter and fixed him with an appraising look. “Well? How was it?”

Sirius shrugged. “All right, I suppose. Not as great as I remembered. I guess because back then I had nothing to compare it to. I mean, she wasn’t bad or anything, just…” His voice trailed off. The words _she’s not you_ hovered on his lips, but he bit them back and washed them down with a swallow of firewhisky. 

“Ooh, I love this one!” Mary exclaimed, hurrying over to turn up the volume. They listened to the entire album, spinning each other around the living room, performing terrible air guitar standing on top of the couch, using their wands as microphones while shouting lyrics from the balcony to the rain-drenched streets of Diagon Alley. When the final strains of “Rock ‘N’ Roll Suicide” faded, they collapsed onto the couch with their arms still around each other, huge smiles on their faces as they gasped for breath.

“That song speaks to my fucking soul,” Mary said, sighing and resting her head against Sirius’s shoulder. 

“I really want to make fun of you for saying that, but I know exactly what you mean.” Sirius reached for the firewhisky bottle resting by his feet and took a sip, then offered it to Mary, but she waved it away. Some of the lyrics stuck in his mind, resonating with him perfectly as if they’d been written specifically for him:  
 _Oh no, love, you're not alone_ _  
__No matter what or who you've been_ _  
__No matter when or where you've seen_

He looked over at Mary, her hair falling into her face and the borrowed jumper hanging off her shoulder, and found himself smiling unexplainably.

“We should get tattoos,” he announced, speaking before he had fully grasped what he was saying.

“That is a bloody brilliant idea,” Mary said. She stood up, then had to steady herself against the arm of the chair before crossing the room to pull clothes from her drawstring bag, swapping the Chudley Cannons pjs for a pair of denim shorts. “Wait, hang on, I’m not of age.” She turned to Sirius and frowned as she attempted to put on a bra without pulling the cardigan over her head. “They’re not going to give me a tattoo.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a mate who works at the tattoo shop,” Sirius assured her. “I think we’ll be all right.” He got to his feet and stumbled to his bedroom to get dressed, then returned to find Mary still attempting to fasten her bra over the jumper. “Need some help, Macdonald?” he asked, amused.

“Sod off,” she said, reaching behind her to fasten the bra before toppling over.

“You’re right, it’s clear you have this perfectly under control,” Sirius said, bending down to pull on his shoes.

When they made it down the stairs and out into the muggy night, fully clothed and giggling, they wrapped their arms around each other (“For balance, not for sentimental reasons,” Sirius assured Mary). The rain had subsided, but puddles still dotted the sidewalk, and the earthy scent of rain hung heavy in the air. Most shops were closed, but the light and chatter from the occasional pub spilled out into the night. 

“How do you know the bloke at the tattoo shop?” Mary asked.

“We had Muggle Studies together,” Sirius replied. “His uncle owns the shop, and he got a job there for the summer. He has a motorbike of his own and helped me a bit with mine. Nice bloke, for a Slytherin.”

Mary started to reply, but lost her train of thought when she tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. Sirius managed to keep her on her feet, but the mishap struck them as so hilarious that they had to stop walking until they had their laughter under control. 

“Is it a bloody terrible idea to get tattoos, when we’re so drunk we can hardly walk?” Mary asked, wiping away tears of mirth.

“Yeah, probably,” Sirius agreed, gasping for breath.

“But we’re going to do it anyway.” She phrased it as a statement, not a question.

“Course we are.” Sirius slowed his pace as they approached a small shop, still brightly lit despite the darkness of the rest of the street. “This is it.” He opened the door and let Mary go through first before following her into the shop where they were greeted by the young man behind the counter. Colorful tattoos covered one of his arms, and he wore glasses with thick black frames and a sleeveless shirt that bore a graphic of a puffskein smoking a joint.

“Hello, what can we do for you, mate?” he said, then his face brightened as he looked up from the papers he had been organizing. “Hey, Gryffindor! Good to see you, mate. This your girlfriend?”

“Nope,” Mary replied, giggling and extending her hand. “Mary Macdonald, Sirius’s Black’s not-girlfriend. Nice to meet you.”

“Lovely to meet you, Mary,” he said. “I’m-”

“Just call him Slytherin, that’s what I know him as,” Sirius interrupted.

“There’s only four students in our Muggle Studies class, one from each house,” Slytherin explained. “We started calling each other by our houses one day, and it sort of stuck.”

“How’s it going living with Ravenclaw?” Sirius asked. “Last time we talked he was about to move into your flat.”

“It’s great. He sleeps 14 hours a day when he’s not working, and it doesn’t matter how loud I am, he sleeps through anything, so he’s the perfect flatmate, really.” He grinned. “We just got two puppies. Huskies. Bloody adorable, but they’re crazy. You a dog person, Gryffindor?”

Sirius burst into laughter. 

“Why is that funny, weirdo?” Mary asked, but the hilarity was contagious and she too dissolved into hysterical laughter.

Slytherin looked at the two of them quizzically, then grinned. “Bloody hell, you’re both drunk, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Sirius replied. He pulled the bottle of firewhisky from his pocket and held it out. “Want some?”

Slytherin hesitated, then accepted the bottle and took a quick sip before passing it back. “Don’t let my uncle see you with that, though. He’ll tattoo you if I vouch for you, but just, you know, be cool.”

Sirius nodded and offered the bottle to Mary, then helped himself to a sip and returned it to his pocket.

“What are you getting for tattoos, by the way?” Slytherin asked.

Sirius and Mary glanced at each other, their eyes widening as the two once again dissolved into giggles.

“You didn’t even get that far, did you?” Slytherin asked, amused.

“Nope,” Sirius admitted. “I’ve no bloody idea what we should get. Do you have any suggestions?”

Slytherin adjusted his glasses as he thought. “Well, you could get each other’s names - that’s sort of the traditional drunk tattoo, isn’t it?”

Sirius and Mary looked at each other again and smirked.

“Fuck no,” Sirius said.

“No bloody chance,” Mary agreed. “Ooh, wait, I have an idea. I think it’ll be brilliant, actually.”

“All right, why not,” Sirius said. 

She frowned. “Don’t you even want to hear what my idea is before you agree to have it tattooed on your body?”

He shrugged. “Nah, I trust you. If you say it’s going to be brilliant, then it’ll be brilliant. Besides, I like the idea of a surprise.”

Mary grinned at him in bemusement as Slytherin went into the back room to get his uncle. “You’re crazy, Black, you know that?”

Sirius tugged one of her curls and sneaked another sip of firewhisky. “And yet you continue to hang around with me, so what does that say about you?”

Sirius opened his eyes to see bright sunlight peeking through the bottom of the shade. A pounding headache pummeled the inside of his skull, a nagging reminder that drinking an entire bottle of wine washed down with firewhisky was not exactly the most prudent decision. As he rubbed his throbbing temples, he spotted something out of the corner of his eye that caught his attention. He examined his arm, and a smile spread over his face as the previous night came rushing back to him. 

“Macdonald,” he murmured, and her eyes fluttered open. “We got fucking tattoos last night.”

“Bloody hell, we did.” She sat up, then grimaced and lay back down. “Ugh, moving was a terrible idea. I think I’ll just lay here until I don’t feel like I’m about to die.” She held her arm in front of her face and admired the new tattoo. “Do you regret it? Because you were all for it last night, but if you think it’s rather dumb now that you’re sober-”

He cut her off. “Macdonald, I love it.” His eyes traveled over the words _Oh no, love, you're not alone_ now etched into his skin. As he watched, more words appeared below the first line of text: 

_No matter what or who you've been_ _  
__No matter when or where you've seen_

His gaze drifted to Mary’s arm and studied the lyrics tattooed there: 

_All the knives seem to lacerate your brain_

_I’ve had my share, I’ll help you with the pain_

_You’re not alone_

After a moment, the first two lines disappeared so only the last three words remained. 

Mary met his gaze, then glanced down at the words on her arm and smiled. “I love it too.” She rolled over and sighed. “Now let’s lay here and curse our existence for a while, because I don’t have the energy to do anything else.”


	4. I'm the king of losing my shit

  
  


As Sirius stepped through the door of the cafe, the mingled aroma of breakfast foods and the hum of chatter washed over him. Before he had time to do more than grin at the hostess, Mary bustled over, carrying a tray of orange juice and coffee and looking harried.

“Black, what are you doing here? I told you I don’t get off work for another hour.”

“It’s good to see you too, Macdonald,” Sirius replied, adopting an injured expression. “I thought I’d stop in and have some breakfast before I pick you up. I hear the pancakes here are excellent, although the service leaves something to be desired.” He reached for one of the glasses on the tray, but she jerked it out of reach without spilling a drop.

“Sod off. These are for customers,” she said with a sigh. 

“Excuse me, I’m a customer, too,” Sirius protested. “A paying customer.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of money. “Look, I’ve even got,” he lowered his voice and glanced around surreptitiously before continuing, “Muggle money.”

“Yes, fine, you’re a paying customer,” she conceded. “You can sit in my section, but don’t do anything too obnoxious to distract me, all right?” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Sirius promised before following her to an empty booth and taking a seat.

“You want orange juice?” she asked irritably.

Sirius frowned. “Is that how you normally take drink orders? Because if so, it’s a wonder you get any tips at all.”

She rolled her eyes. “Bloody hell, Black, you’re such a git.” She plastered a bright smile on her face. “Hello, welcome to Albert’s. What can I get you to drink today, love?”

Sirius pretended to consider the question. “I think I’ll have a nice cold glass of orange juice, please.”

“Coming right up!” she replied, still using the overly-cheerful tone she reserved for speaking to customers. As she hurried off to deliver the drinks on her tray, she glanced over her shoulder and caught him watching her walk away. 

“You’re staring at my arse, aren’t you?” she said, keeping her voice low so customers wouldn’t overhear.

“Can’t help it. I’m not the only one, either.” Sirius gestured over at a middle-aged man several tables over who was staring at Mary and making no effort to be subtle about it.

When Mary returned carrying a tray laden with an impossible number of steaming plates of food, she set a glass of juice in front of Sirius and said, “Your food will be out in a few minutes.”

Sirius gave her an odd look. “What? I haven’t even ordered yet.”

“No, but I know what you’d order if you looked at a menu, so I just went ahead and put the order in to speed things up so you can start shoveling food into your mouth as soon as possible. Hang on.” She left to unload her tray at a booth occupied by a family with several screaming toddlers, then darted back, muttering under her breath, “Yes, let your child dump sugar packets all over the floor while you tell your husband what a shit he is, that’s great parenting.”

“How did you know what I would order?” Sirius persisted.

She sighed in exasperation. “Just trust me, all right? Drink your juice and don’t cause any trouble. I’ll be back in a bit.” She strode away, grabbing an empty milk glass from the family’s booth and shooting them a dirty look as the toddler shrieked and threw jam at her brother.

A few minutes later Mary approached carrying a heaping plate of assorted breakfast foods, but drew up short when she spotted Sirius sitting at his table engrossed in a Muggle newspaper. He wore an expression of eager concentration that she found adorable.

“Reading anything interesting?” she asked, setting down his meal.

“Yes, actually. Apparently one of the Pink Floyd blokes spit on some tosser who was annoying him at a concert in Montreal. Bloody amazing. Bloke gives absolutely zero fucks.” He pushed aside the newspaper and surveyed his breakfast with relish. 

“Good choice, Macdonald, this looks brilliant. How’d you know this is what I’d order?”

She grinned. “It’s called the Big Fat Breakfast. It’s a full English plus pancakes, and as it’s a ridiculous amount of food it seemed to be your sort of thing.” She grasped his wrist to check the time on his watch, then glanced over at the family seated across from Sirius. “I should be able to get out of here in about twenty minutes if that lot doesn’t take forever. Enjoy your mound of food, and I’ll be back in a bit.” She headed for the kitchen, glancing back over her shoulder to watch Sirius beaming as he took his first bite.  _ He’s so easy to please,  _ she thought, smiling.  _ If he were a dog he’d be bloody wagging his tail right now. _

“Bloody hell, Black, you really ate all that food?” she exclaimed when she set the bill in front of him after cashing out the obnoxious family in the booth. 

“Don’t know why you’re surprised,” he replied, frowning in concentration as he studied the bill. “No, I’ve got this,” he said, as Mary reached for it to try to help him. He reached into his pocket and placed a handful of money on the table, then proceeded to sort through it. After almost a minute, he set a pile of money on top of the bill and announced, “All set.” Mary detected a note of pride in his voice.

“I hate to tell you this, because I know you’re aiming for an Outstanding for your Muggle Studies summer assignment, but you’ve overpaid me,” she said, counting the money and handing some of it back to him. 

“Don’t be stupid, that’s your tip,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s almost a 100% tip,” she argued. 

“Well, I really enjoyed my food, and the waitress has a great arse, so I think the tip is completely justified. Now hurry up and cash me out so we can get going. The motorbike doesn’t like it if we keep her waiting too long.”

“Where are we going, by the way?” Mary asked a few minutes later as they climbed onto the motorbike. In his letter he had instructed her to pack a swimsuit but had been vague about their destination. She loved the idea of a surprise, but the suspense was absolutely killing her.

“You’ll see,” Sirius replied, glancing back at her and grinning before starting up the motorbike and taking off at his usual reckless speed.

It soon became apparent that their mystery destination lay outside of London. As soon as Sirius found a deserted stretch of road they took off into the air, and Mary felt a thrill of excitement as the tires left the ground. She watched the buildings and streets recede, then closed her eyes and filled her lungs with fresh air as her hair streamed out behind her and the sun warmed her skin. She let out an involuntary whoop of glee when they reached their desired altitude and Sirius gave the motorbike some gas. She unclasped her hands and trailed a hand up to Sirius’s chest to feel the pounding of his heart. 

“Do that loop de loop thing you did before!” she shouted, tightening her arms around his waist again. 

“All right, hang on tight!” Sirius called back, steering the motorbike into a steep climb.

After almost an hour, Mary glanced down and saw the ocean below them, vast and inviting and bordered by sandy beach and quaint-looking cottages and shops. As they began their descent, the sharp tang of salt air filled Mary’s nostrils. Sirius landed the motorbike on an empty side street, then drove them through town before parking in front of an ice cream shop. A striped blue and white sign informed them that Lonely Beech Ice Cream had been serving homemade ice cream for over 50 years.

“You’re hungry after eating all that breakfast?” Mary asked, climbing down from the bike and stretching her stiff legs. “Mind you, I’m always up for ice cream, so I’m not complaining.”

“We always stop here when I come out here with the Potters,” Sirius explained. “It’s part of the experience. Plus, I am also always up for ice cream.” 

They strolled up to the shop’s porch, where a woman wearing a bright blue uniform and matching hat peered out at them from the order window. A wooden sign hung above the counter, proclaiming the shop’s many ice cream flavors.

“Hello, loves,” the woman behind the counter said with a friendly smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Hmmm.” Sirius drummed his fingers on the counter as he perused the list of flavors. “You know what, surprise me. I’ll take a large waffle cone of whatever flavor you pick. I’ll eat anything, as long as it’s not rum & raisin.” He shook his head in disgust. “Raisins do not belong in my bloody ice cream.”

“And I’ll have chocolate in a waffle cone, please, but just a small,” Mary said, and Sirius nodded in approval.

“A traditionalist. I like it.”

“Would you like any toppings?” the blue uniformed-woman asked. “Sprinkles? Nuts? Bertie Botts?”

Mary raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Bertie Botts? On ice cream? That sounds a bit crazy, but what the hell, let’s do it.”  
When they’d paid and received their ice cream (Mary left a large tip to make up for Sirius’s generosity earlier), they sat on a picnic bench next to the shop to eat. A light breeze carried the scent of the ocean, and a seagull perched nearby waiting for some unlucky child to drop his ice cream. Snatches of music from a radio inside the shop drifted out and mingled with the calls of seagulls.

“I’m not convinced Bertie Botts belong on ice cream,” Mary said, biting into a sardine-flavored bean and grimacing. “Might be worse than raisins.”

Sirius shook his head and took a bite of his cone. “Nah, nothing’s worse than raisins.” He watched her for a moment, then smirked. “Is it wrong that I think you look sexy eating that ice cream cone?”

She chuckled. “Merlin, Black, is there anything that doesn’t turn you on?”

When they finished their ice cream they got back on the motorbike and drove along the curving road that bordered the beach. Mary watched as parents lounged in beach chairs and napped on towels while their children built sandcastles and splashed in the waves. Then they left the beach behind as they turned down another road, this one private and barely wide enough for a car to pass. Sunlight filtered through the lush trees lining the road, and leaves brushed Mary’s arm when Sirius drove too close to the side. After a quarter mile the road opened into a wide driveway and a sprawling mansion came into view. The ocean was just visible behind the house, and a sloping dirt path led to the beach below.

“Whose house is this?” Mary asked after Sirius parked the motorbike by the entrance to the beach path and cut the engine.

“This is the Potters’ beach house.” Sirius climbed off the motorbike and offered Mary a hand down before opening the storage compartment under the seat. “They really only come out here during the summer. I’ve been coming here with James since the summer after first year. Sometimes Remus and Peter come too. It’s always a laugh, and the beach is private, so we’re pretty much the only ones there.” He pulled a vinyl bag and a backpack from the compartment. “We can stay in the house if you’d like. They’re not here and they said we’re welcome to use it, but if you’re up for an adventure I have a different idea.”

“You know me, always up for an adventure,” she replied, eyeing him curiously and following him down the steep path, watching her step to avoid tripping over stones and tree roots. 

When they reached the end of the path, Mary kicked off her shoes and ran to the water. She splashed in up to her knees, gasping as the frigid water numbed her skin and splashed onto her uniform. She dug her toes into the sand and turned her face up to the sun as the breeze lifted her curls and the waves lapped at her feet. Sirius stood back, still holding the bags and watching her with an amused expression. She jogged back to him, kicking up sand behind her as she went.

“Sorry,” she said, smiling sheepishly. “I don’t think I’ve been to the ocean since I was about six.”

“Shit, really?” Sirius looked at her in surprise, pausing with the vinyl bag half-unzipped. “Why not?”

“My mum never had time to take me, or couldn’t be bothered, or couldn’t stay sober long enough to follow through on plans.” She shrugged, then pointed down at the bag. “What’s this?”

“It’s a tent.” He dumped the contents of the bag onto the sand and surveyed the mass of fabric and poles, his brow furrowed. 

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the camping sort,” Mary said, laughing because the idea of Sirius in his leather jacket and combat boots seemed somehow incompatible with the idea of camping.

“Well, I’m not really,” he admitted. “The Potters gave me this tent when I got my flat, Merlin knows why. The only time I’ve set it up on my own was in my living room with James before I had proper furniture, and we were fairly drunk at that point, so I don’t quite remember…” He walked around the tent, staring down at it, then pointed his wand at it and muttered a spell. The pile of fabric and poles erected itself into a four-man tent, and Sirius nodded his head in satisfaction. “It took us almost ten bloody minutes to figure it out last time, but like I said, we’d had a lot of firewhisky.”

She eyed the tent, a dubious expression on her face. “Did you bring blankets and pillows and the like?”

“I mean, it’s a wizarding tent. It’s all inside.” When his reply was met with only a blank stare, he grinned and opened the tent flap. “Come and see.”

She stepped inside, keeping her head bent in the confined space, except it wasn’t a confined space at all. There was a full kitchen and living area. A door at the edge of the living room revealed a bedroom with two bunk beds, and another door led to a small bathroom.

“Bloody hell, why did nobody ever tell me wizards have tents like this?” Mary demanded. “I might’ve been more keen to go camping.” She plopped down on the sofa and rested her feet on the ottoman. “This is the life.”

Sirius stepped out of the tent and returned with their bags, and they both shed their clothes and pulled on their swimsuits before racing down to the water. Sirius dove in without hesitation, showering her in an icy spray and emerging with his hair dripping. Mary waded in up to her waist, letting her body adjust to the temperature of the water, but this soon proved to be futile.

“Just dive in, Macdonald, otherwise I’m going to splash you until you do.” 

So she did. She launched herself into the waves, submerging her body and propelling herself through the water until she was forced to come up for air. Her head broke the surface and she emerged again, gasping and laughing and wiping salty water from her face. 

“See, it’s not so bad once you’re in, right?” Sirius asked, floating on his back.

“It’s bloody freezing.” She wrung water from her hair and blinked as the ocean water stung her eyes.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Sirius said as he paddled over to her and wrapped his arms around her. “You know, this is the tiniest bathing suit I’ve ever seen.” He fiddled with the string of her bikini top until she slapped his hand away.

“Are you complaining?” she asked. She pushed his dripping hair out of his face then trailed her hand down his chest.

“Fuck no,” he replied, before leaning in and kissing her. She tasted a hint of ice cream mixed with salt water, and as the waves rolled past them and the seagulls cawed overhead she closed her eyes and let everything fade away except the feeling of his hands on her skin and the warmth of the sun on her back. 

They eventually dragged themselves out of the water, their fingers pruned and their hair dripping. Sirius dragged some blankets out of the tent and Mary retrieved a joint from her bag, and they lay on their backs on the blanket, staring up at the sky and passing the joint back and forth. 

“Is it mostly wizards who live around here?” Mary asked. She took a long drag on the joint and held it in her lungs, then exhaled and watched the smoke drift away on the breeze.

“There’s a fair few of us up this way, yeah,” Sirius replied. He took the joint from her and took a hit before he continued. “About half the shops in town are wizard-owned. The Greengrasses have a house somewhere around here, I think.” 

“And the Potters own this beach?” Mary looked at the stretch of sand, bordered on both sides by rocky bluffs and deserted except for the two of them. It seemed worlds away from the crowded beach they had passed on the way in.

“Yup. Pretty crazy, right? Me and James have done some wild shit out here and nobody’s ever bothered us.” He glanced over at her and grinned. “Last summer we got a bunch of Dr. Filibuster’s and tried making some, er, modifications. We set off a bunch of them down here, and when James’s parents asked us about it we blamed it on the Muggles who live in the next house down.”

“That does not surprise me at all.” She was starting to feel the effects of the marijuana, and she found herself fascinated by the fluffy white clouds dotting the afternoon sky. “Does that cloud look like a hippogriff to you?” She pointed up at one oddly shaped cloud, unable to tear her gaze away.

Sirius examined the cloud and laughed. “Macdonald, in what world does that look like a hippogriff?”

“Look, there’s the head, and those are the wings.” She pointed upward, but Sirius only continued to laugh. “Sod off. What does it look like to you, then?”

“It looks like a cloud.”

“You’re a git,” she said, rolling over and nestling into him. “Hey, what did James think of your new tattoo?” She studied her own tattoo, watching the lyrics appear and fade away.

“He thought it was brilliant, although he gave me a lot of shit for getting matching tattoos with you.” He paused to blow a strand of Mary’s hair out of his face. “Well, he didn’t exactly give me shit, it’s more of this specific smug, knowing James Potter look that drives me fucking mad.” He turned to face Mary. “It’s like this. Do you know the look I mean?”

Mary blinked, then burst into laughter. “Black, that’s just your normal face.”

He frowned. “Are you sure? I really felt like I was doing a spot-on smug James.” He widened his eyes and blinked several times in succession. “How about now?”

“Now you’re just blinking a lot, you idiot.” She rested her hand on his chest, tracing his scar with her thumb.

“All right, fine. What were we talking about? Oh, the tattoos. What did Evans think about it?”

“She said it was a bloody terrible idea, but she had to admit the actual tattoos were brilliant, because she loves David Bowie.” The sun was beginning to set and the air had a slight chill, so she tucked the edge of the blanket around herself. “I don’t think she was even that opposed, to be honest, but she had to pretend to be appalled to save face.”

Sirius nodded. “Sounds like Evans. So bloody stubborn.” He toyed idly with Mary’s hair, picking up strands and twisting them around his fingers before letting them drop. “James is going to have his work cut out for him when they finally get together.”

“When do you reckon that will be?” Mary asked. 

“October.” Sirius sounded confident, as if stating a fact rather than making a conjecture. 

“I wish they’d hurry up. They’re bloody made for each other. Literal soulmates, and I don’t even believe in that rubbish.”

“I’ve said almost that exact same thing to James a million times.” Sirius chuckled. “Like, the idea of soulmates is complete crap, but it’s just so obvious that they’re meant to be together.” He shifted his position, so he and Mary now faced each other with their arms draped over each other and their foreheads almost touching. “I’d say it’s pretty bloody beautiful, except that’s something only a sentimental sod would say.”

“I think we decided it doesn’t count as being sentimental when we’re high,” Mary reminded him, then closed the short distance between them and kissed him. His words,  _ it’s just so obvious that they’re meant to be together _ , echoed in her head.

“What’s swimming high like?” Mary wondered, minutes or hours later (time had taken on a fluid, unfathomable quality).

Sirius did not reply right away. His gaze was fixed on the sky, splashed with the red and purple hues of sunset. “Sorry, what?” he said when he finally focused on her again. 

“I said what do you reckon it would be like to go swimming while we’re high?” 

“The four of us did it last summer. It was either brilliant or awful, I can’t remember which.” He laughed. “Should we try it and see?” Without waiting for a reply he stood and offered her a hand up, then headed for the water with her trailing behind him. 

They waded in slowly, hands still clasped together as they let the cool water envelop them. Mary looked down and watched a tiny fish swim by, its silvery scales sparkling in the sunlight that filtered down through the water. They continued until the water was up to their chests and the ends of Mary’s hair trailed in the water. Sirius wrapped his arms around her from behind and she leaned her head back against his chest, and they stood this way watching the sunset smoldering above them. 

“Now I remember,” Sirius said, breaking the silence.

“What?” Mary stared transfixed at the sunset, sure she could see the sun moving in infinitesimal increments as it dipped below the horizon.

“I remember that swimming high last summer was excellent. Most bloody peaceful experience of our entire lives. Remus floated on his back for hours, or at least it felt like hours. I’ve never seen him so relaxed. Peter was the only one who didn’t like it, because he was worried about sharks.” He laughed, and Mary joined in, imagining the nervous expression on Peter’s face as he scanned the water for fins. 

As the light started to fade Mary suddenly realized how cold the water was, so they made their way to shore and she wrapped herself in the blanket while Sirius lit a fire. They spread out the blanket and sat by the fire, warming their hands and passing a bottle of firewhisky back and forth. Sirius took a package of sausages from his bag, and they cooked those over the fire and devoured them, burning their tongues and licking the grease from their fingers. Afterwards they split a Honeydukes chocolate bar, slightly melted from the heat of the fire.

“What’s that constellation?” Mary asked, laying flat on her back on the blanket. She had changed into an old pair of sweatpants and Remus’s old cardigan, which had become her favorite jumper. She pointed up at a bright cluster of stars twinkling overhead, then glanced at Sirius and smirked.

“That one’s called Your Mother’s Arse,” Sirius said. “And that one over there’s Merlin’s Knob.” He tilted her head to meet her gaze, straightfaced, then burst into laughter. She rolled her eyes and took a large sip from the bottle. 

“You’re such a prat, laughing at your own joke,” she replied, trying to contain the laughter that threatened to bubble up and burst forth. 

“Fuck Astronomy,” Sirius said, before taking a sip of firewhisky and shouting, “Fuck Astronomy!”

“Why are you shouting?” Mary giggled and moved closer to the fire. The crackling logs and the waves crashing on the beach formed a nice backdrop to their drunken conversation.

“I dunno, but it’s quite liberating,” Sirius replied. “You should try it. Come on.”

“What should I shout about?”

“Anything. Whatever comes to mind. What makes you angry, Macdonald? What makes you want to lose your shit and shout like a lunatic?”

Mary took a sip of firewhisky, and as the liquor burned its way down her throat it made her feel bolder, braver.

“Fuck those parents at the cafe today!” She felt foolish, and yet somehow yelling the words to the empty beach gave her a sense of release and relief.

“Yeah, fuck them!” Sirius agreed. “What sort of bloody awful parents let their kid dump shit all over the floor while they bicker loud enough for the bloke at the next table to hear?” He stood up, nearly tripping over the edge of the blanket but catching himself before he fell headlong into the fire. “Fuck Walburga and Orion!” He grasped Mary’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “It’s much more satisfying when you’re standing. Give it a go,” he urged. 

Mary took a deep breath. “Fuck gin!” She flashed Sirius a defiant grin. “Honestly, it tastes like a fucking pine tree. If you’re going to drink your life away, why not choose a drink that actually tastes halfway decent?”

Sirius nodded. “Fair point.” He stared into the fire for a moment, then shouted, “Fuck all the articles in the  _ Prophet _ that make me anxious and angry when I really just want something to read while I eat breakfast!”

“Fuck creepy blokes at work who grab my arse when I bend over to pick something up!” She raised her eyebrows. “Those fuckers knock their spoon or fork or napkin onto the floor on purpose just so they can have a look.”

Sirius raised a fist in the air. “Yeah, fuck them! If you’re going to grab someone’s arse, be up front about it.” He grinned at Mary. “Macdonald, you have a phenomenal arse and I’m going to grab it.” He did so, then grabbed her wrist as she almost toppled over from laughing so hard. “And also, fuck everyone who says the Cannons are rubbish. This is their year! This is their fucking year, Macdonald!”

“Yeah! Fuck those Cannons haters!” Mary hesitated for a moment. “Fuck everyone who’s called me a tart just because I enjoy shagging!”

“Fuck Madame Puddifoot’s!”

“Fuck all the Slytherin arseholes who call me a Mudblood and don’t even think twice about it!”

“Fuck pureblood ideology!” Sirius added. “And fuck all the pureblood parties where they discuss why Muggleborns are inferior while sipping elf-made wine and eating fucking hors d’ouvres!”

“Fuck Mulciber!” Mary shouted, then found herself swiping at tears that had sprung to her eyes. 

“Ugh, absolutely without a doubt fuck Mulciber!” Sirius echoed. “Punching that sorry excuse for a human being was one of the best things I’ve ever done, and I honestly wish I’d punched him about ten more times.” His face fell when the firelight illuminated the tears in Mary’s eyes. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now as he put a hand on her shoulder and guided her down onto the blanket. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, crying in earnest now. “It’s not even that bad. What happened, I mean. Much worse things have happened to people. He didn’t even… Well, he didn’t really know what he was doing, so he wasn’t able to-” Her voice broke off and she rubbed angrily at her eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks and plopped onto the blanket. “Fuck, sorry.”

Sirius pulled her to him and held her, letting her cry on his chest as he stroked her hair. “Don’t do that, Macdonald,” he said, his voice gentle.

“Don’t do what?” Her face was still pressed against his chest, so the words sounded muffled and faint.

“Don’t minimize what happened to you. You never let anyone see when something bothers you, and I respect the fuck out of that, but keeping it up all the time must be exhausting. It’s okay to lose your shit once in a while. Trust me, I’m the king of losing my shit.”

Mary looked up at Sirius and smiled. “Is that an official title?”

Sirius brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb, and the casual tenderness of the gesture surprised her. “You’re damn right it is. And don’t get any ideas about stealing my crown, either. You have to punch at least two walls and one Slytherin arsehole before you can even be considered for this position.” He reached for the bottle of firewhisky that lay on its side in the sand. “Here’s to losing our shit,” he said, raising the bottle and then taking a sip before passing it to Mary. 

“Thanks, Black,” she said, after taking a large sip and wiping the last of the tears from her face. “And if you ever need to, you know, lose your shit, feel free.”

“Thanks for that, although I’d just go ahead and do it either way because that’s the sort of bloke I am.” 

The flames reflected in his grey eyes and perfectly illuminated the relaxed drunken grin she knew so well, and she teetered on the edge of speaking the words that had tumbled into her head unbidden. Instead she put the bottle of fire whiskey to her lips and took a long pull, drowning the sudden rush of feeling in a mouthful of liquor. 

“Now let’s lay by this fire and snog and point out made-up constellations,” Sirius said, sprawling out and gesturing for Mary to join him.

Mary obliged, curling into Sirius and letting the warmth of the fire and the starry sky above them drive away the remnants of her sadness. 


	5. Payphone confessions

Sirius tossed aside the  _ Daily Prophet  _ and stared down at the table in irritation. All evening he had been filled with a restless boredom, and he had switched from one activity to another, unable to focus on anything for too long. Several books lay face down on the coffee table, a half-eaten takeaway meal sat forgotten in the kitchen, and the radio rested on its side when Sirius had switched it off aggressively after deciding he’d rather sit in silence. The only activities he could sustain were smoking and drinking, so he lit cigarette after cigarette, filling the flat with a smoky haze, and washing down each cigarette with a swallow of firewhisky. He had hoped reading something light might be the distraction he needed, but it was the bloody  _ Prophet.  _ These days it was anything but light.

His mind kept returning to his encounter with Regulus that afternoon. The two brothers had locked eyes while Sirius crossed the street to get to the chip shop near his flat. They had both stopped and stared at each other, as if longing to speak but unwilling to be the first to do so. Finally, Regulus had turned away and continued on to wherever he was going. Sirius had tried to discern his brother’s expression. Was he angry? Regretful and sad? Or simply indifferent? But no matter how many times he replayed the image in his head, Regulus’s grey eyes, so similar to his own, remained closed off and indecipherable. Had he been heading to meet up with his Death Eater friends for some sort of official business? Or was it merely an innocent trip to Diagon Alley to buy sweets or owl nuts or broom handle polish? He sighed in frustration and stubbed out yet another cigarette.

He vacillated between nostalgia for the relationship they once had and fury at his brother’s poor choices. Memories of their younger years together surfaced one by one: throwing Dumgbombs off the roof of 12 Grimmauld Place, Regulus’s six-year-old face lit with joy as he watched them splatter on the ground below; sneaking away from a boring party with a tray of biscuits to play Exploding Snap; hiding in a closet together to escape Walburga’s wrath when Regulus had broken some Black heirloom, and the way Regulus had almost cried with relief when Sirius eventually took the blame and the punishment in his place. Sirius rarely let himself think about these times, yet the unexpected run-in with Regulus and the generous amount of firewhisky rendered him more vulnerable to the assault of unwanted memories. He even began a letter to Regulus, but couldn’t bear to finish it, choosing instead to tear it in half and light the pieces on fire. He reached for the firewhisky to wash down the confused emotions, then threw it against the wall when he realized the bottle was empty.

“Fuck this,” he said aloud, feeling suffocated by the confines of his flat. He needed to drive fast enough to banish these thoughts before he went mad. 

On the walk down the stairs and out to the shed, he realized he was much drunker than he’d thought. He’d never driven the motorbike drunk before, but the risk made the idea of a ride even more appealing. He was that reckless, dangerous sort of drunk that never ended well, so he hopped on the motorbike and set off with no particular destination in mind.

Sirius felt instant relief as the motorbike raced down Diagon Alley and out into Muggle London. He narrowly avoided several parked cars, a fire hydrant, and an old bloke walking his dog (the curb kept creeping up on him). As he drove by a pay phone he was struck with a sudden urge to talk to Mary. He brought his motorbike to a screeching halt and parked, then dismounted and approached the pay phone. He rummaged in his magically extended pocket, digging through an assortment of useful items and rubbish before emerging with some Muggle coins and the scrap of parchment containing Mary’s phone number. He squinted at the Muggle coins, then shrugged and fed two of them into the payphone’s slot before dialing the number on the parchment.

After three rings a familiar voice answered.

“Macdonald!” Sirius remembered the advice from his Muggle Studies professor (“There’s no need to shout when using a Muggle telephone, and in fact it’s considered quite rude. Speak as though you are having a conversation with a friend standing right next to you.”) and corrected his error. “What are you up to?”

Mary’s laughter sounded slightly tinny over the telephone. “Just sitting in my room listening to music and eating an entire box of Bertie Botts.”

Sirius could detect that distinct dreamy quality Mary’s words always took on when they shared a joint. “How high are you, Macdonald?”

“High off my arse.” She giggled again. “How drunk are you?” she countered.

“Drunk off my arse,” he replied, grinning. 

“What, did you stumble all the way to a pay phone just so you could show off your Muggle skills?”

“Course not. I took the motorbike.”

“You what?”

“I took the motorbike,” Sirius repeated. “If you’re getting to the point when words are losing meaning, I wouldn’t suggest smoking any more.”

“I understood perfectly, I was just hoping the second time they wouldn’t sound so bloody stupid. What if you crash and hurt yourself, you idiot?” Her tone contained a hint of worry, and Sirius felt touched at her concern.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” he assured her. “I’m an excellent driver. Besides, I had to get out of my flat. If I stayed there one minute longer I would have lost it.”

The concern in her voice increased. “Are you all right?”

He mulled this over for a moment, but couldn’t even begin to figure out how to answer. “Yes. Well, not exactly. I don’t bloody know.” He shoved his hand in his pockets for something to do and discovered a flask. He shook it and was thrilled to hear the telltale slosh of liquor, so he took a long pull, grateful for the fiery warmth that somehow made him feel calmer.

“Sirius Black.” Mary paused, and Sirius wondered if she was taking another hit. “Are you losing your shit?”

Sirius laughed, but it was a cynical, mirthless laugh. “Yeah, a bit,” he admitted. “Haven’t punched any walls or Slytherins yet, but I did throw an empty firewhisky bottle at the wall.”

“Merlin, Black.” He pictured her rolling her eyes and wearing that exasperated grin she always wore when he told her about something stupid he’d done. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Sirius considered letting the whole mess with Regulus tumble out, but took another sip of fire whiskey instead. “Nah, won’t do any good,” he replied.

“All right. Want me to read you  _ Witch Weekly  _ articles to take your mind off it?” He heard the rustle of pages. “This one has a fabulous piece about how wand wood corresponds to how good a wizard is in bed. Apparently if your wand is maple you’re a terrible shag.”

Sirius burst into laughter. “Shit, really?”

“No, but you’re gullible when you’re drunk,” she replied.

Sirius continued to laugh, and he felt some of the tension evaporate from his body. Talking to Mary for five minutes had cheered him up after all of his attempts earlier had only put him into a more foul mood. Suddenly a fact that he had been stubbornly ignoring for months took form in his mind, impossible to refute now that he had acknowledged it. This realization was too big, too substantial, to keep to himself, so he opened his mouth and let the words spill out before he could consider the consequences.

“Macdonald, I have feelings for you.” His statement was met with only silence, so he asked, “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah. I, er, are you joking?” Her words were faint, hesitant.

“I’m not joking. I have actual feelings for you. The sort of feelings that I would normally say are a waste of time or a crock of shit.” He took another sip of firewhisky, because during this conversation, being drunk was a necessity.

“Bloody hell.” 

“I know. I just realized it, and I’m as shocked as you are.”

“Fuck.” She seemed unable to come up with any response that wasn’t profanity.

“I know. It’s wild, isn’t it? I don’t do feelings or relationships or any of that rubbish. But you get me, Macdonald. You get me in the same way that James and Remus and Peter do, and maybe Evans a bit. You stick around even when I’m being a git, and I feel better when I’m with you. Just talking to you now makes me feel more sane and less like I need to punch something. The last time I shagged someone else it just didn’t feel right, because she wasn’t you. I miss you when you’re not around, and I think about you all the time. And this all scares the hell out of me, and nothing fucking scares me. But I’m telling you anyway, because I’ve had an irresponsible amount of firewhisky and I’m in the mood to be reckless tonight.” He paused to draw breath, still unable to believe the words that had just come out of his mouth. “Well, say something,” he said when Mary failed to reply. 

“I’m not sure what to say,” she said finally.

“Say what you’re thinking,” he urged. “Tell me I’m an idiot, or to shut up and go home, or tell me you’re sorry but you don’t feel the same, or that you do feel the same and you want me to drive across London and come shag you senseless. Say whatever you like, but don’t leave me in suspense, Macdonald. I just made the drunken confession of my life, so it’s only fair to give me some sort of response.” 

She remained silent for so long that Sirius worried his money had run out and the call had ended. He opened his mouth to ask if she was still there, then shut it again when he heard her start to speak.

“I feel the same way.” Each word sounded as if it cost her an enormous amount of effort to speak aloud.

“You do?” Sirius’s heart pounded, and he thought  _ How cliche  _ as he waited for her answer.

“Yeah. I have for a bit, but I tried to ignore it and didn’t let myself think about it because what was the point when we agreed ages ago that neither of us wanted a relationship? But the days I’ve spent with you have been the highlight of my summer. When you drop me off back at my flat I count down the days until I can see you again, isn’t that pathetic? You make me laugh when I’m having a shit day, and you’ve seen what my mum’s like and where we live and you don’t think any less of me. And as much as you pretend otherwise, you look out for your friends, especially Remus, and it’s really bloody adorable. So yeah, of course I have feelings for you.”

Sirius’s face hurt from smiling so hard, but he couldn’t help it.  _ You idiot,  _ he thought.  _ You complete bloody idiot.  _ “So what do we do now?” he asked, attempting to light a cigarette one-handed and dropping the entire pack on the ground.

“I dunno. The agreement-” she began.

“Fuck the agreement!” Sirius interrupted. “We came up with it, we can abolish it at any time if we’re both on board. I want to see you. Right now.”

“All right,” she said, then laughed. “Okay. I’ll get on a bus and come there. Or I can take the underground-”

“Nah, don’t be silly, I’ll come to you. Hang on a second.” He bent to retrieve his cigarettes, and promptly dropped his flask. “Oh, bloody hell.”

“What’s wrong?” Mary asked when he returned to the phone.

“Dropped my flask, but it’s all right, it didn’t spill.” 

“Your flask? Black, are you still drinking? Don’t you dare drive over here in that state, it’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll be fine, Macdonald, quit worrying. I’ll see you soon,” and he hung up before she could protest further.

As soon as Sirius got back on the motorbike, the half a flask’s worth of firewhisky hit him, and he found himself struggling to drive in a straight line. Going faster seemed to help, so he sped up and whizzed down back streets and onto a main road. He managed to make it about halfway to Mary’s flat when he took a corner too sharply and couldn’t regain control. The next thing he knew he was flying over the handlebars and onto the pavement as the motorbike crashed into a streetlight with a crunch and a tinkle of breaking glass. Sirius landed flat on his back, staring up at the sky.  _ Pity it’s too cloudy to see any constellations tonight  _ he thought before losing consciousness.

He came to a few minutes later, his body aching and his head pounding. He moved his fingers, then his arms and legs with slow, tentative motions. Nothing seemed to be broken, although the knuckles of both hands were completely skinned, a gash on his right arm dripped blood, and he suspected he had a concussion. He sat up slowly, shutting his eyes as the world started to spin, then heaved himself to his feet and cast around for his motorbike. When he caught sight of it his heart sank. It lay on its side in front of the streetlight with the headlights shattered and a large dent in the front fender. He attempted to get it upright, but his arm protested and he had to admit defeat.

“Fuck,” he muttered, too drunk and confused to figure out how to solve this on his own. 

He reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out the two-way mirror. It had made it through the crash intact because Sirius had thought it prudent to add a cushioning charm to his extended pocket to protect against this sort of mishap.

“James Potter,” he said, his words slightly slurred from the alcohol and his bloody, swollen lip. He supposed he must have bitten down on it during the crash. 

After a moment, James’s familiar face filled the mirror. “Hullo, Padfoot,” he said, grinning, but then his grin turned to a frown as he took in Sirius’s injuries. “Why are you all battered and bloody?”

“Prongs, I’ve really fucked up.” Sirius glanced back at his motorbike and put his head in his hands, grimacing as his fingers grazed a cut.

“What’ve you done?” James asked, his voice calm.

“I got drunk and crashed my bloody motorbike,” Sirius said, his face still hidden by his hands. “It’s a mess, all smashed up.”

“Merlin. Are you okay? Padfoot, look at me. Are you hurt? Anything broken?”

“I’m fine, Prongs, you’re missing the point.” He pointed the mirror so the tipped over motorbike was visible. “Look at it! Look what I’ve done.”

James sighed. “It’s okay, Padfoot, we can fix it up. You may have a concussion, though. Where are you?”

Sirius looked around and spotted a street sign, then described his location to James with some difficulty.

“Right, don’t move, and try not to get arrested. I’ll be there soon,” James said, before he disappeared from the mirror and Sirius was once again looking at his own bruised and bloodied face.

He took another long look at his damaged motorbike, then sat down on the curb to wait for James as blood ran slowly down his face and dripped onto the ground.

A few minutes later, Sirius heard a faint pop before James emerged from a nearby alley.

“Fucking hell, Padfoot, you look a mess,” he said, surveying his friend’s injuries. “It could’ve been a lot worse, though, so I suppose you’re lucky.” James clapped Sirius gently on the back then offered him a hand up. Rather than grasping James’s hand, however, Sirius merely stared up at him, dejected.

“Don’t tell me it could’ve been worse, Prongs. Look at my motorbike! I love that bloody thing, put my heart and soul into it to make it what it is, and now look how I’ve treated it.” He gestured at the motorbike and shook his head. “This is a bloody tragedy, Prongs.”

“Padfoot, listen to me,” James said, placing both hands on his friend’s shoulders and looking him in the eye. “Your motorbike will be fine, we’ll just have to fix it up a bit. Now stand up so I can Apparate us back to your flat.” He grasped Sirius’s hand and pulled him to his feet.

“What, and leave the motorbike here?” Sirius said, swaying slightly but managing to stay upright.

“No, you idiot, I’m going to Apparate the motorbike too.”

“Like hell you are!” Sirius strode unsteadily towards the motorbike and stood in front of it, as if protecting it. “Have you ever Apparated anything as large or as complex as a motorbike before?”

James frowned. “Well, no, but how difficult can it be?”

“Right, so just use my motorbike as a guinea pig,” Sirius shot back, rolling his eyes. “What if you splinch it? Then we’ll never repair it.” He looked down sadly at his ruin of a motorbike.

“All right, calm down, we won’t Apparate.” James stood silent for a moment, then nodded and s tuck out his wand arm.

“What are you doing?” Sirius asked, now bracing himself against the streetlight, which was leaning at a precarious angle.

“We’re going to take the Knight Bus,” James explained, and a second later his explanation became moot when the bright purple double decker careered into sight.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and -” the conductor broke off mid-sentence when he took in Sirius’s bloodied face and the wrecked motorbike toppled over underneath the streetlight. “Blimey, what happened here?”

“He crashed his motorbike, what do you think happened, genius?” James said, sighing in exasperation. “Right, we need to get this motorbike and my friend back to his flat, yeah? We’ll pay extra for the inconvenience, and I’ll secure it so it doesn’t roll around while the bus is moving. All right?”

The conductor shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, I suppose that’s fine.” 

After James paid the fare and gave the conductor Sirius’s address, he levitated the motorbike through the door, which magically widened to allow the bike to pass through. James then went to retrieve Sirius, who had slumped to the ground and was holding a shard of the headlight glass in his fingers, gazing down at it in adoration.

“Pull yourself together, Padfoot, it’s going to be all right.” James said, grunting as he draped Sirius’s arm around his shoulders and heaved him to his feet, then walked with difficulty to the Knight Bus.

“I dunno about him,” the conductor said, eying Sirius dubiously. “That one’s piss drunk. I don’t want him puking on the bus.”

“He’ll be fine,” James assured him. “He’s not a pukey drunk. He is, however, the sort of drunk who punches things if he gets angry, so I’d advise you to move aside and let us on.”

The conductor raised his eyebrows, but made no further protests and allowed them to board the bus. James dragged Sirius to a seat and set him down, then used a charm to ensure the motorbike wouldn’t move during transport. He returned to sit next to Sirius and chuckled.

“What a night, Padfoot. How drunk are you?”

“Irresponsibly drunk,” he replied. “I finished off my bottle of firewhisky and threw it against the wall. Then I found a flask in my pocket and drank most of that - hey, that reminds me!” He began rummaging in his pocket until he found the flask, then unscrewed it and took a sip.

James looked as though he wanted to stop Sirius from drinking alcohol he clearly didn’t need, but he knew better, so he simply allowed Sirius to pass him the flask and took a long swallow.

“Why’d you throw the empty bottle at the wall?” he asked, mostly to take Sirius’s mind off the motorbike.

“Ran into fucking Regulus in Diagon Alley,” Sirius muttered, leaning his head back against the seat. 

“Did you-” James began hesitantly, but Sirius shook his head.

“Didn’t say a word to each other. So bloody stupid. Nothing even happened, dunno why it bothers me so much.” He rested his hand against the seat, his cut knuckles smearing blood across the fabric.

“I’m sorry, Padfoot,” James said, passing the flask back to him. “You could’ve used the mirror to talk to me, if you wanted.”

“I know. I just didn’t want to talk to anyone, not at first. I wanted to sit in my flat and get drunk and chainsmoke. But then I felt like I was going to go mad if I stayed there any longer, so I took the motorbike out. And I found a payphone, and I wanted to call Macdonald, so I used it just like a real Muggle!” Sirius’s face brightened for the first time since James found him sitting by the wreck of his motorbike. “And we talked about some shit, and then I was going to go to her flat, except I’m a stupid arsehole and crashed into a streetlight instead.”

“It’s all right, we’ll get it sorted,” James assured him. “The protective spells held for the most part, otherwise the damage would’ve been a lot worse.” He ran a hand through his hair and grinned. “I’m honestly amazed you managed to get that far on the motorbike in that state. It’s rather impressive.”

“I would’ve made it all the way to Macdonald’s flat if that stupid streetlight didn’t get in my way.” He lifted his head and looked at James, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Hey, do you reckon we could figure out how to do whatever spell this bus uses to make things sort of jump out of its way?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” James mused, watching a street sign move to accommodate the enormous bus rattling down the road. “But don’t think about it too much now, I don’t think you should overtax your brain too much tonight.”

When they reached Sirius’s flat, James levitated the motorbike into the shed behind the building, cursing as it scraped against the door on the way in, but deciding any new scratches could be attributed to the trash. He returned to the Knight Bus to help Sirius out, and the two struggled up the stairs and finally collapsed onto the sofa, exhausted but laughing. 

“Padfoot?” James asked after handing him a cup of potion and instructing him to drink all of it. “What did you and Macdonald talk about on the telephone?” His voice was casual, but his eyes contained a knowing glint that Sirius never failed to recognize, even under the influence of copious amounts of firewhisky.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” Sirius said. He stretched out his legs and rested his head on one of the sofa pillows. 

“You’re likely not even going to remember tomorrow,” James pointed out, pulling off Sirius’s boots for him.

“Then I guess you’ll be out of luck.” Sirius grinned at him, then let his eyes drift shut.

“I take it you’re sleeping here, then?”

Sirius made no reply, so James shrugged and grabbed the Chudley Cannons blanket that hung over the back of the sofa and draped it over his friend. “Night, Padfoot,” he whispered, before retiring to his room.

When Sirius awoke the next morning, his mind instantly backtracked to try to piece together the events of the previous evening. The last thing he could recall was throwing the firewhisky bottle against the wall and deciding to leave the flat. Everything after that was blank, although he strongly suspected there were many important details he needed to uncover to fill in the blanks. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then frowned as he noticed the cuts on his knuckles. He examined his arm and noticed several cuts and bruises. He braced himself against the couch, preparing to stand, but thought better of it when his arm twinged at the pressure.  _ Bloody hell, what the fuck did I do last night?  _

“Oh, good, you’re not dead,” James said, stepping through the door holding a takeaway bag and two coffees. He wore the trainers and running clothes he kept here, and he looked disgustingly energetic and cheerful. “Here, I brought you a bacon roll and a coffee. We’ll need a proper breakfast before we get to work.”

Sirius stared at him blankly. “Get to work on what, exactly?” His eyes widened in dread. “Oh, no, this isn’t some sort of day focused entirely around Quidditch, is it? Because I don’t care how many times you say it, Quidditch is not the best hangover cure, and if I even so much as look at a broom right now I am going to vomit.”

James laughed. “No, although I don’t hate the idea of going back to my house later for a bit of Quidditch, depending on how much we get done on the motorbike.”

“What are we doing to the motorbike?”

James eyed him apprehensively. “You don’t remember much from last night, do you?”

“No, but what were you saying about the motorbike?” Sirius got to his feet and started walking towards the door, but James held up a hand to stop him.

“Hang on, I’ll explain, but you’ll want to be sitting down for this, I’d imagine.” 

Sirius returned to the sofa and James recounted the entire fiasco, raising his voice to be heard over the various outburst of expletives. 

“And then you said you’d tell me all about your conversation with Macdonald in the morning, but I suppose that’s out of the question, since you remember fuck all about any of it.” James finished his story while Sirius rested his head in his hands, torn between exasperation and amusement.

“Merlin, I am the world’s biggest idiot,” he said, pulling his hands away from his face and reaching for his coffee cup. “The motorbike is really going to be okay?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine. Won’t even take us that long to fix it up, I don’t think. Like I said, except you don’t remember, but anyway, last night I was saying that our protective spells all held up really well. We should pat ourselves on the backs, honestly. This was a good test to see how well it all actually works.”

“I’d rather not have had to test it at all,” Sirius pointed out.

“Yeah, well, shit happens when you drink your weight in firewhisky and decide driving a motorbike is a great idea,” James said with a shrug.

“I should go call Macdonald so she doesn’t think I’m dead or just a giant tosser for ditching her last night,” Sirius said, finishing his coffee and rising from the sofa. 

“I mean, the second assumption wouldn’t be completely incorrect,” James quipped, then ducked as Sirius tossed a sofa pillow at him. “Oi, you’d think you would be a bit nicer. I rescued your sorry arse last night and bribed the Knight Bus bloke to bring your motorbike along and pried your smelly boots off your feet, you ungrateful git.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the best mate in the world and I’m eternally in your debt,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be back in a bit. Meet me down at the shed and we can get started.” 

He set off down the stairs and out into the morning, scowling at the sunlight that was altogether too bright for his current state. The payphone wasn’t very far, and he reached it before he’d even finished smoking his cigarette. As he rummaged in his pocket for Muggle money and Mary’s phone number, a hint of a memory prickled at the back of his mind, but it remained there, elusive and just out of reach.

“Hello?” Mary picked up after the first ring. Sirius wondered if she’d been waiting by the phone, then decided that was very un-Macdonald behavior.

“Hi, Macdonald. It’s me, Black.”  
“Yeah, I know. What happened to you last night? I thought you might’ve lost your nerve.”

“No idea, to be honest. Don’t remember anything after leaving my flat. I don’t even remember talking to you at all, but I know we did because I told James I was headed to your flat.” He paused to take a last drag on his cigarette before dropping it onto the ground and grinding it out under his heel. “I got about halfway there before I crashed my motorbike like a stupid bloody idiot.”

Mary gasped. “Bloody hell, Black, I told you not to drive in that state. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, but the motorbike is a bit banged up,” he explained with a rueful sigh. 

“You’re lucky you weren’t killed, you arsehole! If you died, who the hell would get drunk with me on a Wednesday when I’ve had a shit day?” 

“Peter will, just don’t expect him to hold his liquor at all.”  
“Don’t joke, I mean it.” She sounded genuinely upset, and Sirius felt a slight pang of guilt. “How do you think your friends would feel if you died? Or Mr. and Mrs. Potter? Or McGonagall?”

“Merlin, don’t give me that guilt trip. All right, I promise not to drive after drinking that much ever again. Are you satisfied?”

“Yeah, I suppose.” She paused for a moment, then continued, “So you don’t remember our conversation at all? Nothing?”

“Nothing.” He stared at the buttons of the payphone, and this sparked a fragment of a memory, but it was more of a feeling than anything substantial: a feeling of pure, unadulterated bliss. Whatever they had talked about last night, Sirius had been thrilled about it. “What did we talk about?”

She hesitated. “Er, nothing important. Just kind of chatted about the usual things. Then you really wanted to shag, so you decided to come over even though I told you I’d take the Muggle underground so you didn’t have to drive drunk.”

Sirius frowned. “You sure? James seemed to think it was some deep, important conversation, but maybe I was just having him on for the fun of it.”

She hesitated again, then replied, “Yeah, it was just a regular conversation, nothing deep or important or anything.” Sirius thought he detected a note of falseness in her voice, but perhaps he was reading too much into it.

“All right. Well, I hope I wasn’t too obnoxious. Are you impressed though? Two Muggle phone calls in less than 24 hours. I’m basically a professional now!”

“Yes, it’s very impressive,” she said, chuckling.

“Don’t patronize me, Macdonald,” he protested. “It _ is _ impressive! Anyway, sorry I didn’t make it there last night. When are you off again? Tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Pick me up at the usual time? And don’t crash on the way over.”

He laughed. “I’ll try my best. See you tomorrow.” He rang off and began the trek back to his flat, feeling surprisingly cheerful considering his hangover and the long day of motorbike repair ahead of him.


	6. Here's to family problems and learning to play pool

Mary stood outside Sirius’s flat, trying to calm herself down before knocking. Adrenaline still flooded her veins, and she was breathing hard. Her eyes were bright and wild, full of the sort of hot fury that she rarely experienced. She glanced down and realized she hadn’t even taken the time to tie her shoes before rushing out of her flat. She took a deep breath, ran a hand through her curls, and knocked on the door. A moment later the door swung open and Sirius’s face appeared, wearing a curious expression.

“Macdonald,” he said, grinning. “Didn’t expect to see you. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and shook her head, too overwrought to put her emotions into words. Sirius must have understood this, because he ushered her inside and led her to the sofa.

“Macdonald!” James looked up from a game of wizard’s chess and flashed her a friendly smile. “I didn’t realize you were coming.”

“It… wasn’t planned,” she explained. “I just, I had to get out of my flat.”

“Here,” Sirius said, handing her a flask. “I’m running low, but you look like you need it more than we do.”

“I can go,” she said, rising. “I didn’t realize - I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Don’t be silly,” James said. “If anything, I can go and leave you two alone.”

“Neither of you are leaving,” Sirius said firmly. “We’re all going to sit down while Macdonald has a drink, and we can decide how to spend the rest of our evening.”

Mary returned to her seat and took a long sip from the flask. James pulled a box of Bertie Botts from his pocket and offered it to her, but she waved it away, so he shrugged and popped a few into his mouth.

“So, Macdonald, are you the sort that likes to talk about things right away, or do you prefer to sulk in silence for a while like this one?” He jerked his head in Sirius’s direction.

“I prefer the term ‘brood’ rather than ‘sulk’ if it’s all the same to you,” Sirius said, lighting a cigarette before handing the pack to Mary. 

Math considered the question. Typically she preferred not to talk about problems at all, but today the idea of laying it all out there appealed to her.

“You know, I think I would like to talk about it, actually,” she said, taking another sip of firewhisky and a long drag on her cigarette to fortify herself. “Right, Potter, I dunno how much you know about my mum, but she’s drunk nearly all the time, and she has horrible taste in men, and she makes bloody awful decisions,” Mary began. “She means well, though, she’s just the worst judge of character of all time. She’s also, well, she’s a bit of a tart, which is why she’s not sure who my dad is, although it doesn’t matter because both blokes she was with around that time fucked off, never to be heard from again.”

“For what it’s worth, I still think you’re better off not knowing who your dad is than knowing he’s a fucking bigoted arsehole like Orion,” Sirius remarked.

“Fair point. Anyway, she’s always got some new bloke hanging around. They’re always a bit dodgy, but the one she’s with now is just mean. I caught him stealing money from her purse, so I told him off, because she works hard for her money, even if she’s just going to spend it on gin. And he didn’t like that, so he, well…” Her voice trailed off, and she unconsciously adjusted her hair to ensure the bruise concealed by makeup was adequately covered. 

“Anyway, I don’t care what he does to me, I can take it, but today he went after my mum, pushed her to the fucking ground. I don’t even know what made him do it - I think he was on drugs, I reckon that’s what he was trying to steal the money for. But I wasn’t going to just stand there and let it happen, ‘cause she was already half a bottle of gin in, what the fuck could she do to protect herself? So I stood in front of her and told him to fuck off, and you know what my mum said?” She looked at Sirius and James expectantly, but when they made no reply she continued. “She told me to get out of it, that I have no right to shout at him and it’s none of my concern.” Her face was flushed, and her eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

“She didn’t!” James exclaimed, but Sirius remained silent, apparently accustomed to this sort of parental betrayal.

“She did,” Mary assured him. “And then he called me a dumb cunt and told me to get out of the flat if I was going to cause a row like that.”

“No he bloody didn’t!” Sirius said indignantly, but Mary ignored his outburst.

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve been that angry,” she said. “I really thought I was about to lose it. You ever get that sort of tingly feeling, like you’re about to lose control and do accidental magic?”

James shook his head, but Sirius nodded, a dark expression clouding his face.

“I was about a second away from violating the Statute of Secrecy, so I ran out of there and hopped on a bus. I didn’t even stop to tie my shoes.” She gestured down at her feet and laughed. “And now I’m here interrupting your evening together with my family problems.”

James grinned and helped himself to a cigarette. “Macdonald, I’m always happy to listen to other peoples’ family problems, since I have none of my own to speak of.”

“And I’ve had my fair share of public outbursts about my own family problems, so I have no room at all to judge you,” Sirius added. “Let it out, Macdonald, we don’t mind.”

She sighed. “It’s just so frustrating. Why can’t she see that he’s no good for her, that she deserves better? She just falls into the same patterns over and over again.” She kept seeing the look of helpless resignation on her mother’s face, so she tipped the flask upside down and poured the last few drops into her mouth. “And now I’ve finished all your firewhisky! Why do you stay friends with me?”

“Cause we’re a couple of degenerates too,” Sirius added. “Come on, we're going out to the pub.” 

“I can’t,” Mary said dully. “I’m not of age for another couple of weeks.”

“We’ll just have to go somewhere in Muggle London, then,” Sirius said, looking thrilled with the idea. “We’ll modify our IDs to say we’re old enough, and I have a decent amount of Muggle money that I was going to use for my next trip to the motorcycle shop.”

The thought of a cold drink in the dim, crowded atmosphere of a bar felt like exactly what she needed, so Mary agreed and followed Sirius and James down the stairs and out into the night. Their path was illuminated by the moon, impossibly round and bright. James glanced up at it, then his eyes flickered to Sirius.

“It’s full moon,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Sirius replied in the same soft, solemn tone.

Mary wondered about the significance of this exchange, but remained silent as they strolled down the sidewalk and toward the Leaky Cauldron. She studied Sirius’s face, wondering for the millionth time if his drunken confession has been sincere. Ever since their telephone conversation the morning after the crash, Mary had hovered on the edge of revisiting the topic, but she always hesitated, convincing herself that it had merely been the firewhisky talking, and mentioning it now would just make things awkward or ruin what they had. So she put a smile on and pretended nothing had changed, even though she replayed his impulsive declaration in her head every night before she fell asleep. 

“Macdonald, you coming?” Sirius called, and Mary snapped out of her reverie and realized they had already reached the pub. Their charmed IDs must have passed the test, because they were admitted and bought drinks without incident. They carried their drinks to an empty booth and crammed in as Sirius and James marveled at the jukebox and pool tables.

Mary hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, so she felt tipsy even before finishing her first pint. She had to lean in to hear over the pounding rock music.

“Macdonald, did Evans tell you we’ve written back and forth a bit this summer?” James asked. Even in the dark pub she couldn’t miss the irrepressible grin on his face.

“She did mention it, yeah. She said you’ve been competing to see who can come up with the worst jokes?”

James laughed. “Yeah, she boldly claimed to be an expert in corny jokes, but she doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into. My dad literally has an endless supply of the most awful jokes. I’d love to get her over to my house. Those two would crack each other up.”

“I bet she’d love that. You know, she mentions something from your latest letter every time I talk to her,” Mary said conspiratorially. “I’ve been putting in a good word for you.”

“Cheers, Macdonald,” James said, his hazel eyes bright with hope and liquor. “All right, either of you know how to play that game with all the different colored balls?” 

“It’s called pole, I think, and you just knock the balls about with those stick things,” Sirius explained, watching a bloke across the bar taking aim with his pool stick.

“It’s called pool, you prat, and there’s a bit more to it than that,” Mary said with a giggle. “Would you like to learn?”

The three of them gathered around an empty pool table and selected three pool sticks from a rack on the wall.

“All right, so the point of the game is to get your balls into one of the pockets,” she said, then had to pause her instructions to scold Sirius and James when they began hitting each other with the pool sticks. “Right, so as I was saying,” she began again before stopping to snatch the chalk cube from Sirius’s hand before he could rub it all over James’s face. “Merlin, you two are a couple of children! Do you want to learn or not?”

James and Sirius smiled ruefully. “All right, we’ll behave,” James promised.

“And if we don’t, you can whack us with the pool sticks,” Sirius added.

After Mary caught the both of them sneakily using magic to knock the balls into the pockets, they both tried to play in earnest. James was a natural: he could visualize where the balls were going to go, and he had excellent hand-eye coordination honed by years of Quidditch. Sirius, on the other hand, couldn’t sink a ball to save his life. He was far too impatient for the careful shots and calculated decisions pool required. Mary found this amusing; Sirius, on the other hand, was becoming more and more agitated. When he overestimated a shot and sent a ball soaring off the table to knock over someone’s beer, he set down his stick in disgust.

“This game is the bloody worst. I quit!”

“Don’t be silly, Black, you’re just not holding the stick properly. Here, watch me.”

She picked up her own stick and aimed for a solid ball, hitting it squarely with the cue ball and plopping it into a corner pocket. She found pool calming, and sinking a ball always gave her a particular sort of satisfaction. She turned back to Sirius to find him watching her with an expression of unabashed admiration.

“You make it look so bloody easy!”

She grinned. “It’s not as hard as you think. Here, let me show you.” She placed the stick in his hand and demonstrated the correct way to hold it, then helped him choose his shot. When his chosen ball dropped neatly into a side pocket, they both cheered.

“I got one! Thanks, Macdonald, that was brilliant.” He dropped the pool stick (earning a dirty look from the bartender) and wrapped his arms round her. His lips tasted of beer and cigarettes, and she noticed a smudge of blue chalk on his cheek.

“Oi! I leave for a minute to get drinks and you two immediately start snogging?” James shook his head in mock disgust and motioned for them to return to the booth. 

“So how’d you get so good at pool?” Sirius asked, taking a long pull of his beer. “Or, I dunno, is that something all Muggles and Muggleborns know how to do?”

She gulped her own drink and shook her head. “Nah, I learned from hanging around pubs with my mum when I was a kid. If she didn’t have anyone to watch me she’d just bring me along. Her favorite pub had a pool table, and one of the bartenders taught me while my mom was chatting up blokes or crying into her gin.” She smiled wryly. “Well, all right, that’s not fair, sometimes she’d play with me, too. My mum’s even better at pool than I am.”

“I can see that,” Sirius said, nodding thoughtfully.

“Hey, will you tell Evans what a natural at pool I am?” James asked, an eager grin brightening his face. “Make it sound really impressive, yeah?”

“Yes, I’ll tell her you’re excellent at handling a stick and balls,” Mary replied, straight faced, while Sirius and James exchanged sly smiles.

After they finished the round, Mary went up to the bar to replenish their drinks. When she returned and set the glasses down on the table, Sirius and James eyed them suspiciously.

“What’s this?” James asked, sniffing the liquor and grimacing. 

“Tequila,” Mary explained. “You’ll love it.” She took one of the shot glasses and raised it in the air, and the other two followed her lead. “Here’s to family problems and learning to play pool,” she said, and they all clinked glasses and downed their shots.

Sirius leaned in and smirked at Mary after returning with another round of drinks. “All right, Macdonald, fuck, marry, kill. Slughorn, Kettleburn, Flitwick. Go!” 

“Merlin, I don’t like my options,” Mary complained, laughing. “I suppose I’d fuck Flitwick, marry Slughorn, kill Kettleburn.”

“Ouch, poor Kettleburn,” James remarked.

“The man only has half an arm!” Mary pointed out.

James shrugged. “Some people are into that.”

“Why Flitwick?” Sirius asked. “You think he’s a freak, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Mary replied. “I’ve seen him try not to laugh at the inappropriate comments you lot make. And that time we left class for a quick shag and he only docked points for dress code? That little bloke is a certified freak for sure.”

“And Slughorn?” Sirius asked.

“Well, he’s so well-connected, I could reap all the benefits without having to do any of the work. And I wouldn’t have to actually shag him, since he’s obviously gay, which is lucky, because he would probably crush me if he was on top.”

Sirius nodded appreciatively, but James frowned. 

“Really? You think he’s gay?”

Mary widened her eyes. “Oh, 100%. Look how he dresses! And you ever see the way he looked at Professor Weaver?”

“No, I never noticed. How did he look at him?”

Mary giggled. “Like he wanted to tear his clothes off and shag him right there in the Great Hall. Although, to his credit, Weaver was quite good looking. I wish he would’ve stayed, I did so well in Defense that year.” She sighed, then rested her head on her hands and looked at James. “All right, Potter, your turn. Fuck, marry, kill. Pomfrey, Hooch, Trelawney.”

“That’s easy,” James said, running a hand through his hair. “ Kill Trelawney - no offense, but those glasses just aren’t sexy.”

Mary laughed and raised her eyebrows at him. “You do realize you wear glasses, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but I look dashing in glasses. Anyway, I’d marry Madame Hooch - we’d just talk Quidditch all day, it’d be brilliant. And I’d fuck Pomfrey, cause, well, she’s the best looking choice, I suppose.”

“Ooh, I dunno, Moony might get jealous,” Sirius remarked, sipping his beer and looking at James pointedly. “That’s his girl.”

“What?!” Mary demanded, after almost choking on her mouthful of beer.

“Oh, yeah,” James said, nodded. “Remus does have a bit of a thing for Pomfrey.”

“Really?” 

“They have a rather special relationship,” Sirius said, grinning.

“So, wait, have they ever…?” Mary asked, incredulous.

James laughed. “Oh, no, definitely not.”

“But he would,” Sirius added. “If she showed up in the middle of the night when he’s in the Hospital Wing and offered to, er,  _ help him feel better _ .” 

“Bloody hell, I always underestimate him,” Mary said, between peals of laughter. “He’s as bad as you two, isn’t he?”

“Worse,” James said. “He’d kill us if he knew we were telling you this, though.”

“Oh, yeah, he’d fucking murder us,” Sirius confirmed. “All right, who do I have to choose from?”

“Hmmm… Moaning Myrtle, the Fat Lady, or the Giant Squid?” James asked.

“Ugh, what’s wrong with you, mate?” Sirius replied in disgust. “Wait, I have one for you. Just pick one to shag: Evans, but she’s taken Polyjuice to look like Snivellus, or Snivellus, but he’s taken Polyjuice to look like Evans.”

“Ooh, that’s actually kind of interesting,” Mary said, but James shook his head vehemently.

“And you think there’s something wrong with me? I refuse to answer that one out of respect for Evans.”

“Fine, fine, party pooper.” Sirius glanced across the pub and spotted a dartboard. “Hey, Macdonald, can you teach us to play the game where you throw those little pointy things?”

“No bloody way,” Mary scoffed. “You’ll take someone’s eye out in about two seconds.”

“Yeah, fair point. All right, I suppose we should do another round of fuck, marry, kill, then.”

When they finished the next round, James wandered off to find a bathroom and Sirius and Mary headed outside to smoke. A haze of smoke hung in the air, but the other smokers must have recently returned to the pub, because Mary and Sirius were the only ones outside. Sirius leaned against the side of the building and lit a cigarette, then handed the pack to Mary. They smoked in silence for a minute, watching a couple across the street walking hand-in-hand, followed by a drunk bloke who had stumbled out of a pub and almost knocked into them.

Finally Mary spoke, breaking the silence. “Do you think I’m a horrible person for leaving today?” She studied a broken beer bottle that lay near her feet, unable to meet his eye. 

“What are you talking about?”

She nudged the neck of the broken bottle with her foot, rolling it back and forth. “I just keep thinking I should have stayed. To protect my mum, you know? Leaving wasn’t… Well, it wasn’t a very Gryffindor thing to do, was it?” Broken images flashed into her mind as she imagined everything that might have happened after she left. 

“Macdonald, look at me.” When she kept her gaze fixed on the ground, Sirius cupped her chin and gently lifted her face until they were eye to eye. “You did nothing wrong. You had to get out of there. It could have been really bad if you stayed and lost control, but also, you had to get out of there for your own protection.” His fingers traced the bruise that she thought she had concealed with makeup. “Nobody deserves to be treated that way.” He drew his hand away and shoved it into his pocket, then leaned back against the building again, watching her thoughtfully. “You know, I thought the same thing when I left home, that I should have stayed for my brother. I still do, sometimes. But he could’ve left with me. He didn’t though; he chose to stay, just like your mum. So don’t blame yourself. You can’t force people to accept help if they don’t want it.” He took a long drag on his cigarette, then blew the smoke out slowly. “Who the fuck knows where I’d be now if I hadn’t left last summer, if James hadn’t given me a place to stay. So you’re welcome to stay with me if you don’t want to go back.” He finished his cigarette and dropped it onto the ground, then shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned at her, and she felt a rush of gratitude and affection for him, because he had offered her refuge without even a second thought, as if it was the only possible course of action.

“Nah, that’s okay, I’m going back in the morning,” she replied. “I have to. I have my job, and I’ve got to make sure my mum’s all right.” She reached out and touched his shoulder in a gesture that conveyed more tenderness than she would normally reveal. “But thanks for offering. It means a lot.” 

“I’ve got your back, Macdonald. And if you want to go back, then James and I are going with you.”

“No-” she began, but he plowed on without even acknowledging that she’d spoken.

“We’re going to make sure that bloke doesn’t bother you and your mum anymore. We can be quite intimidating when we want to be.”

An image of Sirius and James, cracking their knuckles and staring down her mother’s boyfriend with threatening scowls popped into her mind, and she smiled in spite of herself.

“Yeah, all right,” she assented. “My mum’s not going to be happy, though.”

Sirius grinned. “Leave Melanie to me. I think I can talk her round. She is quite fond of me, after all,” he said, before heading back into the pub, and after a moment Mary followed, a faint smile on her face.

After several more rounds, it was again Mary’s turn to go up to the bar to replenish their drinks. As she waited for the bartender to pour their pints, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around to find a tall man holding a half-empty pint glass, leering at her.

“Hullo, love.” He stood close enough that she could smell his breath, and she watched his eyes flick up and down her body, lingering on the cleavage revealed by her v-neck shirt before returning to her face and winking. “Can I buy you a drink?”

She took a step back. “That’s all right, I’ve just ordered drinks.” She stared at the bartender, mentally urging him to pour the drinks faster.

“Then let me buy your next one. Come and sit with me, go on.” He gestured to a table across the room that was occupied by several men. One of them noticed her gaze and raised his glass in the air.

“No, that’s okay,” she replied, gratefully accepting the new pints from the bartender. “I’m here with my friends.” She pointed at the booth where Sirius and James sat with their heads close together. James said something that made Sirius throw his head back and laugh. A girl two tables over seemed to have her eye on him, but he either didn’t notice her or was uninterested (Mary hoped it was the latter).

“Is one of them your boyfriend, then?” the man asked. “Let me guess, the one in the leather jacket?” He shook his head. “You can do better than him, love. Ditch Leather Jacket and give me a go.” He draped an arm around her and leaned in even closer. She could almost taste the beer and cheese and onion crisps on his breath. 

“Back off, mate, she’s not interested.” Mary breathed an instant sigh of relief when she heard Sirius’s voice, and the tall man removed his arm from around her shoulders.

“Relax, we’re just talking,” the tall man said, crossing his arms and eying Sirius defiantly. “Why don’t you let her speak for herself.”

“I’m not interested,” she said, sipping her pint and retreating to stand next to Sirius. 

“Fine,” he snapped, sounding angry. “No need to be such a stuck up, bitch, love. You’re not all that. Just the same as every other tart in here.” He began walking away, but caught his foot on a bar stool and slopped some of his beer onto her shirt.

“Bloody hell,” she muttered, grabbing a napkin from the bar and dabbing at her shirt then turning back towards the booth. She assumed Sirius was following close behind until she heard a grunt of pain and the sound of glass breaking and whirled around to see that Sirius had knocked the tall man to the floor and was kneeling over him, aiming another punch at his jaw.

“Potter!” she shouted, but James had already caught on and hurried past her, muttering “For fuck’s sake, Padfoot,” before trying to pry Sirius off the other man. 

Sirius’s foot caught a barstool and knocked it over, which got the attention of the tall man’s friends. They hurried over to help, and James soon gave up on restraining Sirius and instead joined the fight.

“Macdonald!” James shouted, his voice barely audible over the sound of a hightop table crashing to the floor. “Get ready to run, all right?”

“What?” she called back, then hopped out of the way as the bouncer and the burlier bartender rushed into the fray to break up the fight. One of the blokes James had been fighting didn’t seem to realize what was happening and punched the bouncer in the nose, but rather than deterring him, it only seemed to make him angry. After a moment he had the man’s arms wrapped tightly and painfully behind his back, and he wore a look of grim satisfaction despite the blood dripping down his face. The bartender had Sirius in a headlock, while James and the other two men had relented and stood panting and bleeding from various injuries.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, causing a scene and breaking shit in my bloody bar!” the bartender yelled as Sirius struggled to break free. “You young lot, with your leather jackets and motorbikes and bloody awful music, no fucking respect!”

“Mate, we’re sorry,” James said, his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. “It was a misunderstanding. Wasn’t it, Padfoot?” He looked at Sirius meaningfully.

“No, it bloody wasn’t,” Sirius protested, still fighting to get free.

James sighed, then reached into his pocket and muttered something under his breath that caused the bartender to release Sirius and step back, looking bemused. James grabbed Sirius’s arm and pulled him towards the door, and Mary followed, pushing people out of the way in her haste. They continued running even after they left the hot, hazy atmosphere of the bar and didn’t stop until they were safely through the entrance to magical London. 

“Merlin, Black, what the fuck did you do that for?” Mary choked out, her chest heaving after their drunken sprint. Sirius, bent over at the waist gasping for breath, made no reply.

“You are a bloody idiot,” James remarked. Unlike the other two, he ran at least three miles a day and was barely winded. “However, that right hook was excellent.” He gave Sirius an admiring grin, and Sirius looked up and gave him a thumbs up.

“Come on,” Mary urged, reluctantly beginning to walk towards Sirius’s flat despite the stitch in her side. “We should get back. You two are a bit of a mess.” She surveyed Sirius and James: Sirius had the beginnings of a black eye and a split lip, and James’s nose bled freely onto his Ballycastle Bats t-shirt.

When they reached the flat, James turned on some music while Mary pulled Sirius into the bathroom to clean the blood from his face.

“I can’t believe you did that,” she remarked, wiping blood from his lip with a wet washcloth. “There was no need.” She studied his swollen eye; it looked painful, and she wished she knew some healing magic.

“Don’t be stupid, I wasn’t going to let him talk to you like that,” Sirius protested, grimacing as the washcloth pulled at his cut lip. “And he spilled beer on you.”

“That was an accident.” She shook her head, half-exasperated, half-admiring. “You don’t think at all before you act, do you?”

He grinned. “‘Course I don’t, don’t you know me, Macdonald?” He brushed a stray curl out of her face. “You liked it a bit, though, didn’t you?”

She turned her attention from his lip to his split knuckles. “What are you on about? You could’ve been seriously hurt, and James had to illegally use magic so we could run away to avoid getting arrested.”

Sirius grinned, then swore as his lip began bleeding again. “Come on, it turned you on a little, didn’t it?”

A sly smile spread across Mary’s face as she reached over and brushed away the bead of blood from his lip. “Maybe a little,” she admitted, leaning in closer and resting her other hand on his shoulder. 

“Did it turn you on when I punched Mulciber, too?” he asked, wrapping a hand around her waist and pulling her towards him.

“Maybe a little,” she repeated. “Don’t make a habit of it, though.” She kissed him, tasting blood and trying to be gentle.

“Oi, you about finished in here?” James stepped through the open door, then laughed and retreated. “Merlin, you two ever hear of shutting the door? Guess I’m pissing off of your balcony, Padfoot. If the neighbors complain I’m blaming you.” He shut the door behind him, leaving them to it.


	7. Tastes like I'm going to puke tonight, part 1

“I just don’t understand why you won’t let me have a go at driving it,” Mary complained, pulling open the door of Sirius’s flat and heading for his bedroom to drop her bag. “It’s my damn birthday, for Merlin’s sake.”

“It’s not personal, Macdonald,” Sirius explained as he followed her. “I don’t even let James drive it. I mean, all right, I did once, but it was a complete disaster and I’m not taking that chance again. That poor motorbike’s been through enough this summer.”

Mary set down her bag and let herself fall backwards onto Sirius’s bed. “You say that like it wasn’t completely your fault that you crashed.” She frowned as she felt something lumpy under the covers and reached under to feel around for the culprit. “All I’m saying is, give it some thought.” She pulled her hand out from under the blanket and frowned. “Black, why is there a half-eaten sandwich in your bed?”

“I brought it to bed last night and must have fallen asleep eating it,” Sirius replied, grinning and taking the sandwich from her.

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to-” she began, but before she could finish her sentence he had taken a bite. “You’re really something, Black, you know that?”

He crammed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth and chewed for a moment before swallowing and giving her a thumbs up. “Yeah, I know,” he said, brushing crumbs from his mouth.

They wandered out into the living room and settled on the couch to wait for the others to arrive. After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door and Sirius rose to peer through the peephole.

“What’s the secret passphrase?” he called.

“Padfoot, don’t be a prat, just let me in,” Remus said from the other side of the door, sounding exasperated. 

“Sorry, no admittance without the passphrase,” Sirius replied in a tone of regret. “Gotta have strict security measures these days.”

Remus sighed. “Fine. Is it still ‘Remus Lupin is a tosser’?”

“Correct.” Sirius opened the door and ushered Remus into the flat, grinning.

“Hi, Remus,” Mary said from her spot on the sofa. “I don’t think you’re a tosser, for what it’s worth.”

“Thanks,” Remus replied. He looked a bit paler than usual, but otherwise cheerful. “Happy birthday, by the way.” He sat down in the chair across from her and his eyes fell upon a book resting on the coffee table. He picked it up and turned to Sirius, a curious expression on his face.

“Padfoot, were you reading this, or are you and Macdonald planning to use it for more bedroom play?”

Sirius laughed and returned to his spot next to Mary, stretching out and resting his feet on the coffee table. “Don’t be so dirty, Moony. I got bored and actually read it the other night, if you can believe that.” He glanced at Mary and Remus, and, correctly reading their expressions, added, “I ran out of firewhisky, and it was pouring so I didn’t feel like going anywhere, and I’d turned off the radio in disgust when the Cannons were down by 300 points, so I was really out of options.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “What did you think?”

“Glad you asked, because I’ve been meaning to shout at you for talking up such a frustrating book,” Sirius replied, glaring at  _ The Great Gatsby  _ as if it had done him a grievous injustice. “I mean, almost everyone in the book is a bloody awful person! I enjoyed the drunken parties, those parts were all right, and Gatsby actually reminds me of Prongs a bit - all that green light stuff, and his capacity for hope or whatever, pining after someone, except Prongs wouldn’t waste his time on someone as unworthy as Daisy. Driving around running people down, and crying over some bloody shirts - I mean, what a materialistic bitch, right?” He shook his head in disgust. “And the way they look down on people just because of where their money comes from reminds me of all that pureblood ideology rubbish. He’s absolutely right, the narrator bloke, when he says they’re a rotten crowd - just a bunch of stuck-up snobs who think being born into money means you can do whatever the fuck you want. They’d probably all be in bloody Slytherin. And that,” he drummed his fingers on the coffee table for emphasis, “is my opinion.”

Remus mulled this over for a moment, then grinned. “That’s a pretty good analysis, actually, although I think one of the things we’re meant to take away from it is Gatsby’s pursuit of a dream, no matter how impossible it seems, no matter what it takes to get there, which is what I like about the book. I dunno, doesn’t that seem like more of a Hufflepuff trait - loyalty and working hard and all that?”

Sirius shook his head. “Nope. He’s a bloody Slytherin - he works his way up from nothing to having a ridiculous bloody mansion by doing loads of dodgy shit, and you’re telling me that’s not a Slytherin move?” He raised his eyebrows at Remus pointedly. “Also, what color is the light at the end of Daisy’s dock? Fucking green.” He crossed his arms and slouched down as if the matter was settled, then hopped up again to answer the door and admit Peter and James.

“I notice you didn’t make them give the passphrase before you let them in,” Remus observed.

“Oh, right, ‘Remus Lupin is a tosser,’” James said, and Sirius gave him a thumbs up. “Happy birthday, Macdonald,” James added. “I hope you’re ready to get drunk and lose at pool.”

“What’s pool?” Peter asked, frowning. “Oh, and happy birthday, by the way.”

“Muggle game,” James explained. “Padfoot’s nearly as bad at it as he is at chess.”

Sirius scowled and opened his mouth to argue, but lost his train of thought when there was another knock on the door. He rose, and a moment later rejoined the group, followed by Lily.

“Welcome to my humble abode, Evans,” he said, making a wide, sweeping gesture with his arm. “Make yourself at home.”

“Hi, Evans!” James blurted, hopping up and giving her a hug before releasing her and sitting back down, his face pink.  
“Hi,” she said, amused, then navigated around the coffee table to give Mary a hug. “Happy birthday!” She surveyed Sirius’s flat, and her eyes were immediately drawn to the framed photo of Sirius and the three Potters wearing matching Christmas sweaters. “Merlin, Black, that’s quite the change from your usual leather jacket.” She rose and crossed the room to examine the photograph more closely, then turned to James. “Your parents are so bloody adorable, Potter.”

James ran a hand through his hair. “‘Course they are, where do you think I get it from?”

Lily rolled her eyes at him. “Should we have a quick drink before we go?” she suggested. She slid a bottle of liquor from a paper bag, then went into the kitchen to find glasses.

“You brought tequila?” Mary asked, examining the bottle excitedly.

“‘Course I did,” Lily replies. She returned from the kitchen with a handful of shot glasses and filled one up for each of them, then passed them around. “I picked it up at Sozzle & Slosh on the way here.” She glanced sideways at Sirius. “Careful, Black. I heard tequila gets you into trouble.”

Sirius laughed. “I get myself into trouble, with or without the help of tequila.” He raised his shot glass in the air and waited for everyone else to do the same. “To Miss Mary Veraminta Macdonald, may she have a wild, drunken, sexy birthday.” Everyone clinked glasses and downed their shots; Mary shook the glass to ensure she got every last stop, but Peter choked and almost spit his out.

“That was my first tequila shot,” he admitted, still coughing.

“Mine too,” Remus added.

“What did you think?” Mary asked, stacking the empty shot glasses and carrying them into the kitchen.

“Tastes like I’m going to fall asleep at the pub tonight,” Peter replied.

“Tastes like I’m going to puke tonight,” Remus said, smiling resignedly.

“Should we get going, then?” Sirius asked, rising. “Get a headstart on the activities that will eventually lead to sleeping and puking?”

They began to make their way to the pub, chatting and catching up on what everyone had been up to over the summer. The six of them took up the entire sidewalk, so they had to keep squeezing into a single-file line to let people pass, which seemed to amuse Peter, for some reason. Sirius fell into step beside Lily after the group rearranged to let a little old lady and her fluffy little dog pass.

“So, Evans, had any interesting correspondence this summer?” Sirius asked, glancing at her and flashing her a knowing smile. 

“Remus wrote me an interesting letter about a book he thought I might enjoy,” she replied, but her eyes had darted to James before she could fix them on her feet.

“I said interesting, not dead boring,” Sirius said impatiently. “Have you or have you not exchanged no fewer than twelve letters with one James Edward Potter?”

“Nice try, I know his actual middle name is Fleamont.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Revealed somewhere around letter ten, no doubt.”

“Oh, no, this was ages ago, in one of the first letters, I think,” Lily replied.

“Ah ha!” Sirius pointed his finger at Lily triumphantly. “ So you do admit to exchanging twelve letters.” 

“Thirteen, actually,” James called back, turning around to face them from his position at the front of the group where he’d been talking with Remus. “I got a new letter this morning. And don’t harass her, Padfoot, or that’ll be the last letter she ever writes me.” He continued walking backwards as he talked, maintaining a cool, casual air until he misjudged his position and stepped off the sidewalk, losing his footing and nearly falling into Remus.

“You’re such an incredible athlete, Potter,” Lily quipped, laughing openly as he hurried to regain his composure. “So graceful, on and off the Quidditch pitch.”

“Don’t make fun of my mate like that!” Sirius scolded her, eyes wide in mock outrage. “Here, take a drink for that.” He pulled his flask from his pocket and thrust it into her face. “New rule: if you make fun of Prongs, you have to drink.”

“I don’t think that rule bodes well for me,” Lily muttered, taking the flask from him and sipping from it. “Isn’t tonight’s aim to get Mary drunk, not me?”

“Tonight’s aim is to get all of us drunk,” Mary said, catching up to Lily and draping an arm around her. “Getting drunk alone is no fun.”

“I don’t necessarily agree with that,” Sirius pointed out, accepting the flask Lily handed him and taking a long swallow before passing it to Mary. “It can be fun if you’re in the right mood.”

“Where are we going, by the way?” James asked. “I’m leading the way, but I don’t actually know the destination.”

“Should we start in The Leaky Cauldron, and then see if we can find somewhere with pool and maybe live music?” She glanced sideways at Sirius and gave him a sly smile. “I’d say we could go back to the place we went last time, but we’ve probably earned a lifetime ban.”

When they reached The Leaky Cauldron they all filed in and chose a table while James went up to the bar to get drinks for everyone. He returned, levitating six glasses with only a minor spill, and passed them out before raising his own glass in the air.

“To Macdonald’s 17th birthday, and to the start of an unforgettable night that hopefully will not include a bar fight,” he said, and they all clinked their glasses together and took long swallows. “Not that it wasn’t a laugh,” he continued. “But I bled all over my favorite Ballycastle shirt and it took ages to get the bloodstains out, so I’d rather avoid the hassle.” He eyed Sirius’s Chudley Cannons shirt and smirked. “Although if you’d let me borrow that I’d be less concerned about staining it, since they’ve already ruined it by putting the Cannons logo on it.”

“That’s un-bloody-called for,” Sirius replied, scowling. “New rule: if you have a go at the Cannons you have to drink.” 

“Fair enough,” James replied. “If any of us are on our feet by the end of the night, it’ll be a bloody miracle.”

“Don’t worry, Lily will carry you,” Mary said. “She’s freakishly strong.”

“What? Really?” James looked at Lily with a newfound admiration. “Even in those shoes?” He cast a doubtful glance at her high-heeled sandals. “You’ll fall and break an ankle.”

“No, I can do it, I’ll show you later,” Lily assured him. “And even if I do break an ankle, you two are suspiciously good at healing spells, so I expect I’ll be okay.”

“Did any of you see  _ The Daily Prophet  _ today?” Remus asked conversationally.

“I try not to read the Prophet if I want to enjoy my day,” Mary replied, finishing her drink.

Remus nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“Should we play a game?” Peter suggested. “What’s that one you taught us, Evans, where you have to bounce a coin into a cup?” He found a Knut in his pocket and demonstrated, attempting to bounce it into Mary’s empty glass but missing entirely and sending the coin rolling across the floor. “Damn, I’ve just remembered how bad I am at this game.”

“That might be the best idea you’ve ever had, Peter.” Lily took another coin from her purse and set it on the table. “Anyone want to go first, before Potter and I absolutely destroy you all?”

By the time they left The Leaky Cauldron the entire group was buzzed: James and Lily got to choose someone to drink every time they bounced a coin into the cup, which they did no fewer than 23 times, but they also had to drink several times themselves, James because he kept making fun of the Cannons, and Lily because she kept making fun of James. After magically altering their IDs, Lily linked arms with Mary and Sirius as they ambled out into Muggle London in search of a pub.

“I’m so glad you two are, well, whatever it is you’re calling it,” she said, smiling at both of them in turn.

“Devastatingly attractive? Pleasantly buzzed? Bloody terrible at that game you just forced us to play?” Sirius suggested. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific, Evans.”

“I think she meant she’s glad we’re friends,” Mary said, flashing Lily a warm smile. 

“I don’t think friends is necessarily the right word,” Lily pointed out. “I mean, you are and I are friends, but we don’t go around shagging each other.”

“Never too late to start,” Sirius said, winking at them.

“Anyway,” Lily continued, ignoring Sirius’s suggestive comment, “I just wanted to say that I’m glad you two have gotten so close. I think you’re good for each other.”

“Aww, Evans, that’s uncharacteristically nice of you to say,” Sirius replied, genuinely touched. “You’ve come a long way from telling her she’s wasting her time because I’m ‘only looking for a shag’ and I’m ‘not worth the emotional baggage.’”

“Yes, I suppose I’ve changed my tune a bit,” Lily admitted, a sheepish smile on her face. “That was rather mean of me to say, wasn’t it?”

“I cried myself to sleep for a week over that comment.” Sirius pulled out the flask and passed it to Lily. “It’d make me feel a little better if you took a drink.”

She rolled her eyes. “Here’s to Black being worth the emotional baggage,” she said, taking a sip.

“Do you lot want to go here?” Remus asked, pausing in front of a pub. “I’m not sure if they have pool, but it says there’s live music, and I dunno, it just feels right, doesn’t it?” He gestured up at the sign that hung above the pub, and James, Peter, and Sirius all chuckled. The pub was called The Black Dog.

“Well-spotted, Moony.” Sirius gave him a thumbs up, then led the way into the pub. “I approve wholeheartedly of this pub.” 

The rest of the group followed him into the dim, noisy interior. Various tables were clustered in front of a bar, and there was a small dance floor in front of a stage where a band stood, plugging in equipment and preparing to play. They chose a table and Sirius went up to the bar to get drinks, recruiting Peter to help him carry them since levitating wasn’t exactly an option here. They returned a few minutes later, setting down six pints on the table after Peter almost dropped one on Remus’s lap when one of the microphones screeched and startled him. Everyone talked and sipped their pints for a bit, raising their voices to be heard above the audio feedback and then the sound of the music once the band started to play. The band wasn’t half bad, and Mary noticed Peter bobbing his head along with the music, although he turned pink and stopped when he spotted her watching him. 

“This is my song!” Lily exclaimed when the band launched into something fast and upbeat. “Come and dance with me!” She grabbed James’s hand and led him onto the dance floor, and as he glanced back over his shoulder, Sirius gave him a quick thumbs up.

Mary leaned over to whisper in Sirius’s ear. “What are the chances they end up shagging tonight?”

Sirius laughed. “Slim to none. I told you, they won’t get together until October. I’d bet my life on it.” He watched James whirl Lily around the dance floor and grinned. “I can’t wait. I’m going to give such an excellent best man speech at their wedding.”

Peter raised his eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you’ve already started writing it.”

“‘Course not,” Sirius scoffed. “It’s me. I’m going to write it the night before the wedding, or probably an hour before the ceremony’s meant to start, actually. But it’s me, so it’s going to be the best bloody speech you’ve ever heard.” He drained his glass and stood. “Will you two get another round while we go out for a smoke?” He extracted a handful of Muggle money from his pocket and set it on the table, then put his hand on the small of Mary’s back and steered her toward the exit. The bar was filling up, and they had to navigate their way through the crush of people in various states of inebriation until they finally pushed their way through the door and into the fresh evening air.

“Are you having a good birthday so far?” Sirius asked, lighting a cigarette before offering the pack to Mary. “It’s kind of fun to have everyone here, isn’t it?”

“I can’t complain,” she replied. “It’s shaping up to be a great evening. Hang on a second.” She peered at the pack of cigarettes, frowning. “What the hell are these?”

“They’re cigarettes, Macdonald.” Sirius took a long drag, then exhaled as if to demonstrate his point.

“Yes, thank you, I’ve gathered that,” she snapped. “I meant, these aren’t your usual Marlboros.” She pulled a cigarette from the pack and held it up doubtfully.

“They ran out of Marlboros at the shop. These aren’t as good, but they contain nicotine and tobacco, so they’ll do.” He watched her light her cigarette and grimace as she took her first drag. “You know, you’re rather particular for an occasional smoker.”

She blew out her smoke and grinned. “I like what I like.” She brushed a strand of hair out of her face and adjusted the strap of her dress, which had slid down her shoulder. “Besides, I’m not sure you can call me an occasional smoker these days. I’ve been stealing cigarettes from my mum rather a lot.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Macdonald, you delinquent!”

“I know, can you believe it?” It grew quiet for a moment as the band finished a song, then promptly started up another one. “You think they’re snogging yet?”

“Merlin, you’re eager, aren’t you? Be patient.” He reached over and tugged at the strap of her dress that she’d just fixed, sending it sliding down her shoulder again. “Would you feel better if we snogged?” 

She took a step closer to him and dropped her cigarette onto the ground. “Maybe a bit.”   
  


“How much of this do we need to give him to pay for the pints?” Remus muttered. He and Peter stood at the bar, waiting for the bartender to pour their drinks and staring down at the Muggle money uncertainly. “Should I just give him all of it, and then if it’s too much he’ll just think the rest is a tip?”

“I dunno,” Peter replied, his eyes darting from the money to the bartender and back. “What if he thinks you’re hitting on him by giving him a big tip?”

“Did you mean for that to sound so dirty?” Remus asked, grinning. “Besides, what do I care if he thinks I’m hitting on him?”

“Well, what if we spend all the Muggle money and don’t have enough to buy drinks for the rest of the night?” Peter persisted.

“That’s true,” Remus mused. “Hmm, well maybe I’ll just take a guess and hope it’s right.”  
“Are you blokes having trouble?” The bearded man on the stool next to them gestured at their pile of money. He clutched a bottled beer, and his accent was American; he said the word ‘blokes’ in an affected, self-conscious way. “Too drunk to figure out how much to pay for your drinks?”

Remus seized on the opportunity. “Yes. Yes, that’s exactly why we’re having trouble. We’re, er, too drunk.”

“Much too drunk,” Peter added, looking down at the money with a bemused smile. “Could you help us, mate?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” the American said. “Actually, you know what, this round’s on me.” He handed some money to the bartender who had just returned with their pints. 

“Cheers,” Remus said, taking one of the pints and flashing their new friend a grateful smile.

“Cheers,” the American replied, clinking his bottle against Remus’s glass and taking a sip.“Oh, shit, you meant thanks, didn’t you?” He laughed. “Guess you can tell I’m American. I don’t have all the Brit slang down yet.”

“That’s all right,” Peter said, taking a sip of his pint. “At least you weren’t too drunk to pay for your drinks.”

“I’m Tony, by the way.” He held out his hand, and they each shook it in turn and introduced themselves, shouting to be heard over the blare of the music. “I’m flying back to America early tomorrow morning. I hate to leave, but I’ve got work on Monday.”

Remus glanced doubtfully at the collection of empty beer bottles in front of him. “Should you be drinking if you have to be up that early?”

Tony followed his gaze. “No, probably not,” he said with a shrug. “Oops.” He pointed at the rest of the drinks. “Who are all these for? Or are you two just really thirsty?”

“They’re for our friends,” Remus explained. “Two of them are dancing, and the other two are outside smoking.”

“Oh.” Tony’s face lit up. “Are any of them girls? Are they single? Can you introduce me?” 

Remus and Peter glanced at each other. “Two of them are girls, and they’re both technically single, but neither of them are exactly, er, available,” Remus explained.

Tony frowned. “I don’t really know what that means, but I don’t like the sound of it. Hmmmm.” He scanned the bar and pointed to a curvy blonde sitting a couple seats away. “What do you think of her?”

Remus shrugged, but Peter stared rather obviously until Tony nudged him. “You’re staring, bud. Be cool.” He waved at the blonde and called, “Hey, love! Come over here and meet my new friends, and I’ll buy you another drink.”

“What are you doing?” Remus asked, looking panicked.

“I tried earlier but she wasn’t interested,” Tony muttered. “But maybe she’ll like the looks of you and will introduce us to her friends.”

“I’m not sure-” Remus began, but the blonde girl was already settling into the stool Tony had vacated.

“Hello,” Tony said, grinning at her. “Katherine, wasn’t it?”

She raised perfectly-plucked eyebrows and fixed him with an expression of disdain. “It’s Melissa.”

“Oops. Well, I was close,” Tony said, shrugging. “Anyway, these are my new friends, Remus and Peter.” He leaned in closer to her to whisper in her ear. “Would you believe it if told you Remus has ties to the mob?”

She eyed Remus. “Him? I don’t believe it.” She accepted the drink Tony had ordered for her and popped the cherry into her mouth before taking a dainty sip of the pink, fruity concoction. 

“Would I lie to you?” Tony insisted. “I’m telling you, this man is one of London’s most-wanted. Fucking dangerous. Rich, too - he’s robbed several banks but he’s never been caught.” He winked at Melissa. “Look at those scars - I would not fuck with him, would you?”

Melissa continued to stare at Remus, interest gradually replacing the look of skepticism on her face. “Really?” she asked him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Is it true?”

Remus smiled resignedly. “Apparently,” he replied, glancing at Peter and suppressing a chuckle.

“I see your dancing skills haven’t improved since last time,” James said, leaning in close to her and catching a tantalizing whiff of her shampoo. They had returned to the table to finish their drinks when the band switched to a slower song, and Lily, teetering in her high heels, seemed grateful for the break.

“I see yours haven’t improved either,” she shot back, doing an unflattering imitation of one of his dance moves that involved a lot of arm flailing and head bobbing.

“Laugh if you want, but the girls at that table over there couldn’t take their eyes off me!” He jerked his head at the table next to theirs, where a group of girls threw back a round of shots before shouting, “WHOOOO!”

“Yes, that’s because they thought you looked like a complete idiot,” Lily replied, shaking her head in exasperation. “We’ve got to get Sirius and Mary out here, Mary’s actually a very good dancer.”

“So is Sirius, actually,” James said. “Where are they, anyway? How long does it take to smoke a bloody cigarette?”

She shrugged. “Should we go look for them?” She downed the rest of her drink and stood up, scanning the bar for a glimpse of Sirius’s leather jacket or Mary’s distinct curls, but she let out a little shriek of excitement as the band played the opening riffs of another song. “Sod them, we have got to go dance to this song right this minute!” She grabbed James hand and he followed her out onto the dance floor, enjoying the way her green eyes appeared even brighter when she’d had a few drinks. 

He leaned in and spoke into her ear. “I was only joking.” She’d tucked her hair behind her ear, and he noticed she wore stud earrings shaped like cauldrons. He found this so bloody adorable that he almost lost his train of thought. “About your dancing, I mean. You’re a lovely dancer.”

She laughed, then put her lips close to his ear so he could hear her reply. “Liar. We’re both bloody awful. But I’m too drunk to care.” She spun around with her hands in the air, and James watched her dress fan out around her legs. They were dotted with freckles and more tan than he’d ever seen them, and he found himself staring before he tore his eyes away and looked her determinedly in the eye lest she catch him in the act. She was so beautiful, it was really just bloody unfair, and as she spun back into him, the tips of her hair whipped his face and her lips were so close to his and he could lean over and kiss her so easily. He almost did, hovering on the edge, but something held him back, and then the song ended and she was leading him towards the bar to find the rest of the group and the moment had passed, irrecoverable along with the rest of their almost-moments. It would have to be next time, or the time after that, or however many times it took. It didn’t matter, because he was making progress, however infinitesimal, and he couldn’t help but smile as this thought floated through his intoxicated brain. Bloody hell, he was getting there.   
  


“Who the hell are they talking to?” Sirius asked. He and Mary had just stepped in from their smoke break, which had become a snogging break, which had become a shagging break once she’d dragged him into the alley behind the pub. He gestured at the bar, where Remus and Peter sat, engaged in conversation with two strangers. A girl who somewhat resembled Miss July stood next to Remus, her hand on his shoulder and her ample chest at eye level, and Sirius couldn’t help but silently congratulate his friend. “Are you seeing this, Macdonald?”

“I’m seeing this,” Mary confirmed, standing on tiptoe to get a better view. “Damn. Where did he find her? I mean, even  _ I’d _ shag her.”

“We’ve got to get him to shag her, whatever it takes,” Sirius muttered before striding up to Remus and clapping him on the back. “Hullo, Moony. Who are your new friends?”

Remus turned to face Sirius, a wide grin spreading over his pale face. “Padfoot! You’ve been ages!” He grabbed a pint from the bar and handed it to Sirius, then grabbed another one and placed it in Mary’s hand. “Sorry if they’re a bit warm, they’ve been sitting there for a while.” He addressed the two strangers. This is Sirius and Mary. Be nice to Mary, because it’s her birthday.” He pointed to each stranger in turn. “This is Tony, and that’s Melissa.” He leaned in and rested a hand on Sirius’s shoulder, and Sirius could tell he’d had several pints in the time they had been outside smoking. “Melissa thinks I’m in the bloody mafia or something, play along,” he whispered, before raising his voice and continuing, “Pads, Tony’s from America, and he’s rented some fancy car, and he’s promised to take us for a ride if you’re up for it.” He raised his eyebrows at Sirius. “You up for it?”

Sirius grinned. “Course I’m fucking up for it. Macdonald, you up for it?” He didn’t wait for her to respond, but leaned closer to Tony and extended a hand. “Hello, Tony, is it? Lovely to meet you, and thanks for looking out for my mates while I was out smoking. Now, tell me about the fancy car you’ve rented.”

Tony took a large swig of beer before grasping Sirius’s hand and shaking it firmly. “Nice to meet you, Sirius. And happy birthday, Mary, love.” He turned to Mary and flashed her a warm smile. “Your next drink is on me.” He turned back to Sirius and leaned in a bit closer. “Now your friend Remus tells me you drive a motorcycle, but do you know anything about cars? I have an Aston Martin parked out there.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the door.

Sirius whistled in admiration. “Those are beautiful cars. And fast. Is it as bloody fast as they say?”

Tony grinned. “It’s bloody fast,” he confirmed.

“Then I think we need to take a ride in it.” He glanced at the crowd of people and frowned. “Can we all fit?”

Tony paused, considering the question. “Yeah, if Melissa sits on Remus’s lap.”

Sirius grinned and downed his pint in one gulp. “Yes. We’re doing it. Remus, Peter, Mary, Melissa, finish your drinks, because we’re about to take a ride in a race car.” He glanced over at the dance floor, where he spotted James and Lily twirling each other around, and he frowned regretfully. “It’s a shame Prongs can’t come, but he’s happier over there, don’t you think?” he muttered to Remus and Peter, and they both nodded. “Right, Tony, mate, lead the way,” he said, linking his arm through Mary’s and grinning at Remus and Peter in excitement and anticipation. 

They left the pub and set off into the balmy night, and after a minute a sleek blue coupe came into view. It looked powerful yet understated, and it was bloody beautiful - there was really no other word to describe it. Somehow it seemed wrong that Tony had just left it here, unattended: it could get stolen, or scratched, or breathed on wrong, or a pigeon could shit on it. Sirius reached out a hand and gently stroked the hood, the streetlights reflecting in the shiny blue paint. He could almost feel the engine humming under the hood, longing to be pushed to the limit to show them all what it could do.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Tony asked, opening the door and getting into the driver’s seat. “Hop in.” He glanced at Mary. “You want to sit up front, love, since it’s your birthday?”

Mary shook her head. “Oh, no, I’m fine.” She climbed into the back seat after Peter and pushed over so Remus and Melissa could pile in. “Black, you sit up front.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Once everyone had squeezed into the car, Melissa had to lean back against Remus so her head didn’t hit the ceiling, but judging by the expression of incredulous bliss on his face, he didn’t mind in the slightest. Sirius turned around to face Mary and grinned. She sat crammed between the two boys with Melissa’s legs spilling over onto her lap, but she wore a wide smile and her eyes were bright.

“Thanks, Macdonald,” he said, reaching out and tugging at a curl that had fallen into her face.

She didn’t reply, but leaned forward and kissed him. This took him by surprise, and he opened his mouth to comment on it, but at that moment Tony put the key into the ignition and the engine roared to life, essentially banishing everything else from Sirius’s mind. As the car raced down the street, Sirius watched the speedometer climb for a moment, then fixed his gaze on the road ahead as London passed by in a blur. 

“Roll your window down,” Tony suggested, and Sirius did so without hesitation. The moment the first blast of night air hit his face he felt a thrill of pure exhilaration and happiness, and without thinking he stuck his head out the window and let out a whoop of joy as the wind tousled his hair and stung his eyes. He could hear Peter laughing from the backseat and Tony shouting at him to knock it off, but he tuned it all out until Mary grabbed the back of his jacket and hauled him back inside “before you get decapitated, you idiot!”

“But really, what’s happened to our friends?” Lily collapsed into a barstool and peered around at the various strangers, searching in vain for a familiar face. She pushed her hair out of her face, slightly damp from dancing, and signalled to the bartender.

“Maybe they’re all out smoking,” James suggested. He slid into the seat next to her and reached into his pocket to retrieve the Muggle money Sirius had given him earlier, but Lily shook her head.

“This round’s on me,” she said, before raising her voice and asking the bartender for two tequila shots. When he set them down a moment later, Lily lifted hers in the air and waited for James to do the same, then said, “To being the worst bloody dancers in the world and not giving a toss!”

James grinned. “Well said, Evans,” he replied, and they both threw back their shots and slammed the empty glasses down on the table. Lily tried to stack them, but kept missing and had to try several times before she managed it.

“You’re going to be on your arse by the end of the night, aren’t you?” James observed.

“Me?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “What about you? I saw you nearly miss your mouth just now.”

“That,” he said, holding up a hand, “was not alcohol-related. I just have poor hand-eye coordination.”

She burst into laughter. “Rubbish! I’ve seen you make a catch and then score hanging from your broom one-handed. Poor hand-eye coordination my arse.”

His expression changed. “That was fourth year! I can’t believe you remember that. I didn’t even think you paid attention to Quidditch.” The memory was still so vivid, he could remember exactly the way the Quaffle felt as he snatched it out of the air and sent it soaring into the hoop, the way the winter wind had whipped at his hair and jerked his broom around, the way the crowd had cheered and shouted his name. The idea that Lily would not only remember this particular maneuver, but would bring it up as evidence of his skill, surprised and touched him more than he cared to admit.

“I pay attention once in a while,” she replied, shrugging. “That game was pretty unforgettable. I just never let on how impressed I was because, well, you were already insufferable enough as it was. I thought one more compliment might actually enlarge your head so much that you wouldn’t be able to lift it.” She smiled wryly. “So I was doing it for your own benefit, really.”

He chuckled. “Well, thanks for looking out for me, Evans. And if you find yourself impressed by my Quidditch prowess in the future, it should be safe to pay me a small compliment or two, because I have deflated my head a bit over the last year, or I like to think I have, anyway.” He ran a hand through his hair and watched Lily fiddle with the strap of her dress, noticing the way her hair cascaded down her shoulders and glinted in the light from the neon beer sign above the bar.

“You have,” she agreed, meeting his gaze, and her eyes contained the earnest honesty of someone whose inhibitions had been worn down by alcohol. “I’ve noticed.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You have?”

She nodded. “I never said anything because, well, I was afraid to jinx it, to be honest, but you really listened to what I said that day after the Defense O.W.L. when I told you off. You really took it to heart, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I really did.” He grinned. “It takes a while for criticism to actually get through to me-”

“No! You’re joking.” He loved the casual familiarity of her sarcasm, the teasing smile that tugged up the corners of her lips.

“Shut up,” he replied, chuckling. “I was going to say that once criticism does get through to me, I really take it to heart. I thought about what you said all bloody summer. I replayed your words over and over in my head. I really did some soul-searching - me! Can you believe it? And I realized that you were absolutely right, that there were some things about myself that I needed to change. So I did. Or at least, I hope I did. It hasn’t been easy, and I know I’m still an arrogant prat sometimes, but I think there’s a definite improvement.” He ran his hand through his hair again. “I’ve been wanting to thank you, for quite a while, actually.”

She frowned. “Thank me? For telling you off?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Well, for having the guts to tell me what a fucking tosser I was. There aren’t many people willing to do that. McGonagall, Dumbledore, most of the teachers - I mean, they’d tell me off, but I’ve gotten off lightly so many times when I really deserved much worse. Sirius and Peter go along with whatever I do because they're my mates, and Remus - well, he’ll tell me off once in a while, but he doesn’t do it with the same, er, exuberance that you do. And my parents, I mean, they’re lovely, just great people, but they think the bloody sun shines out of my arse. Don’t think they’ve ever properly shouted at me in my life, and I know this might shock you, but I got into all sorts of mischief growing up.” He glanced sideways at her, and she grinned and rolled her eyes. “So anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for calling me out like that, because otherwise I’d probably still be the same arrogant toerag I was before, and then we wouldn’t be friends, and I’ve really enjoyed becoming friends with you this year.”

She looked down at the bartop, then her green eyes darted back up to meet his gaze. “I’ve enjoyed it as well,” she admitted. “More than I ever thought I would.” She looked down again and began to push the empty shot glasses around. “I’ve also wanted to tell you something for a while. I, well, I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

James gaped at her. “What? Merlin, Evans, why are you sorry? I just got finished telling you how glad I am that you told me off.”

She smiled and stopped toying with the shot glasses, raising her head to look him in the eye. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that, in front of everyone. I mean, I’m not saying you weren’t being a shit, because you were, but I did go a bit overboard.” She bit her lip. “I was really upset about, you know, what  _ he _ called me, and I suppose I took it out on you because it was easier than letting him see, letting everyone see how much he hurt me.” She rested her hand on his shoulder, and for a moment he was afraid to move or breathe in case it ruined the moment. “So anyway, I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite all right,” he replied. “I think it all worked out for the best.” Her hand lingered on his shoulder, and he almost reached up and laced his fingers through hers, almost leaned over to kiss her, and he could already see the whole moment playing out, could already taste the remnants of tequila on her lips and feel the warmth of her tiny hand in his. And then the bartender came over to offer them another round, and the moment floated away, and James was left sitting there, exasperated at his own capacity for hope.

“Hey, you said you’re good at pool, right?” Lily asked, pointing over at the recently-vacated pool table. “Think you could teach me?” 

“I’d love to,” James said. He set some money on the bar to pay for their pints and grabbed both glasses, then led the way over to the pool table. He set the drinks down and selected pool sticks for both of them, then proceeded to demonstrate how to properly hold the stick to make a shot. 

“I don’t think I’m doing this right,” Lily said after she lined up a shot and completely missed the cue ball, sending her pool stick skidding across the table. 

“Merlin, Evans,” James said, shaking his head. “Here, let me show you.” He handed her the pool stick and adjusted her grip, then stood behind her to help her line up the shot. Unacquainted with Muggle culture though he was, he knew enough to realize how terribly cliche this much look, yet he couldn’t help but enjoy it anyway.

“I got one!” she exclaimed as a solid ball dropped into a corner pocket. “Oh, hang on, what happens if the white ball goes in, too?”

James grinned and plucked the cue ball from the pocket. “We pull it out and pretend we didn’t notice,” he said, indicating that she should take another turn. “Those are the official rules.”

“Tony, mate?” Sirius finally rolled the window up and shook out his hair, then turned to face the driver. “What are the chances you’d let me have a go at driving?”

Tony laughed as he slowed and came to a stop at an intersection. “I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head. “But I’ll let your friend have a shot.” He glanced in the rearview mirror and winked at Mary. “What do you think, would you like to take us for a ride?”

Mary’s eyes lit up. “Yeah I do!” 

Tony pulled the car to the side of the road and hopped out, and Mary extricated herself from the backseat with difficulty, nearly kicking Peter in the face as she climbed over him. 

“Macdonald, do you know how to drive?” Sirius whispered as she slid into the driver’s seat. “I mean, I have complete faith in you and all, but should I be prepared to do a cushioning charm at a moment’s notice?

She grinned. “You’ll find out,” she said as she adjusted the seat to fit her much shorter legs. “Now get in the backseat so Tony can sit up here, and mind you don’t disrupt Remus and the blonde.” She lowered her voice. “They look, er, quite cozy.”

Incidentally, an emergency cushioning charm would not be required, because Mary did know how to drive. While her driving was not as smooth as Tony’s, she seemed to have at least enough experience to operate the car without stalling or crashing. As she increased the speed, Sirius peered around Peter to see the expression on her face. Rather than a frown of concentration, or a look of fear and anxiety, her face was lit by a smile of pure joy and excitement. She knew what she was doing, and she was having fun with it, and Sirius thought he had never seen her look more sexy.

When she parked the car down the street from the pub and they struggled out of the cramped back seat, Mary couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “That was brilliant, thanks!” she gushed as she wrapped her arms around Tony and gave him a tight hug. “I’m going to buy you a drink to thank you!” She ignored Tony’s protests and linked her arm through Sirius’s, leading the way back to the pub.

“What’d you think of me driving that car?” she asked, glancing sideways at him and raising her eyebrows. “Pretty impressive, right?”

Sirius grinned. “That’s an understatement. How’d you learn to drive? Your mum doesn’t have a car.”

A sly look spread over her face. “My dealer bloke taught me. I looked good behind the wheel of that Aston Martin, didn’t I?”

“Again, huge bloody understatement,” he replied as he stepped through the door into the noisy, packed atmosphere of the pub and was greeted by the scent of stale beer and sweat. 

She studied his face, then grinned in triumph. “It turned you on, didn’t it? It’s just like when I watched you punch that bloke last time we went out.”

“Shut up, Macdonald,” Sirius replied, but he didn’t deny it. What was the point, when it was clearly written all over his face, when he couldn’t stop picturing the way she’d gripped the steering wheel, the way her curly hair tumbled into her face as she pressed down on the gas pedal and made the car lurch forward? “And you know, I was thinking. If you still want to have a go driving my motorbike, I suppose I could let you try.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up, it’s my birthday,” she protested, pushing her way through the crowd until they reached the bar. “Wait, what?” She gaped at him, before her face broke into a wide smile. “Wow, thanks, Black!” 

“Just, you know, try not to crash.”

“Yeah yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “I wonder where James and Lily have got to. You think they noticed we left?” she asked as she waited for the bartender to finish serving a large group of men at the other end of the bar.

“There they are.” Sirius pointed over at the pool table, where James was attempting a behind the back shot. “I doubt they even realized we’d left. Too busy ogling each other and pretending not to be.”

“Are you getting drinks?” Remus asked, joining them at the bar with Melissa. They had their arms draped around each other, and Remus wore a goofy, drunken smile.

“Trying to, but the bartender won’t give me the time of day,” Mary replied, trying in vain to flag him down. “Melissa, you try, maybe he’ll like the look of you better.”

Melissa nodded and tried waving at the bartender, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll try going further down the bar a bit, maybe that’ll work,” she said, then began jostling her way through the crowd to an open spot at the other end.

“Padfoot,” Remus began as soon as she was out of earshot. “Did you see-”

“Oh, I bloody saw,” Sirius replied, clapping his friend on the back. “I’ve never been prouder of you in my entire life. You’re an inspiration to all of us. Keep it up, whatever you’re doing.”

“I honestly don’t even know how I’m managing it. I mean, it’s me.” Remus smiled sheepishly. “She didn’t even want any chocolate - I offered. She must be quite drunk, I suppose.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sirius demanded. “Moony, you are a bloody catch, and any girl would be lucky to have you. Merlin, you deserve a good shag more than any of us!”

“Black, you’re shouting,” Mary observed in a tone of amusement. 

“Well, I feel very strongly about this,” Sirius replied, not bothering to lower his voice. “Wormtail, back me up, will you?” He glanced over at Peter, who had fallen asleep with his head on the bar. “Oh, bloody hell. Well, if he was awake, he’d agree with me.”

“I’ll do my best to talk you up if we go to the loo together,” Mary added. “I’ll tell her all the girls at school fight over you, how you leave a trail of broken hearts wherever you go.”

“That’s no good,” Remus said, chuckling. “That bloke Tony’s told her I’m some sort of gangster and that all my scars are from knife fights or some such rubbish.”

“Oh!” Mary studied Remus, then nodded. “Yeah, all right, that’ll work. I’ll pull something out of my arse, don’t worry. With any luck we’ll get her to come back to Black’s flat with you.” She stood on tiptoe to try to locate the bartender. “Bloody hell, where’s he gone? We’re dying of thirst over here.” She turned to Tony, who had just joined them after trying and apparently failing to talk up a busty brunette over by the pool table. “Tony, I’ve been trying to get you a drink for the past ten minutes, but this prat of a bartender won’t even look my way.”

Tony frowned. “Well that’s not right.” He glanced at the bar and grinned. “We may just have to help ourselves.”

Mary raised her eyebrows. “What, you mean reach behind the bar and just grab the whole bottle? Is that sort of thing allowed in America?”

He laughed. “I don’t think it’s allowed anywhere, but you seem like the kind of people who don’t really care much about following the rules.”

She nodded. “You’ve got that right.” She scanned the selection of liquor bottles behind the bar and located an almost-full whiskey bottle that looked within reach. She glanced around, then made a grab for it, but her hand closed on empty air.

“Fuck, my arms aren’t long enough,” she mutterred. “Black, you try.”

Sirius didn’t reply, but simply reached out and grasped the bottle with ease. He set it on the bar in front of them and flashed the group a satisfied grin. “Thirsty?” He put the bottle to his lips and took a long sip, then handed it to Mary. Unfortunately the bartender chose this exact moment to remember their existence, and his face darkened in anger as he watched Sirius drink straight from the bottle. 

“Hey!” the bartender shouted. “What do you think you’re doing?” He gestured at the bottle in Sirius’s hand, then waved his arms around in an attempt to get the bouncer’s attention. 

“Oh, shit,” Sirius muttered. “I think we may need to leave.” He nudged Remus. “Wake Wormtail up, will you?” He shoved the bottle into Mary’s hands. “Here, take this and head for the exit. I’ll go get James and Lily and meet you out there.” He set off before anyone had time to argue, dodging chattering groups and tipsy couples and hopping over peoples’ feet as the bartender continued to shout in his general direction.


	8. Tastes like I'm going to puke tonight, part 2

“This is the best song ever!” Lily shouted, grabbing James by the hand and leading him out onto the dance floor, their pool sticks forgotten. 

“You’ve already said that about at least three other songs tonight,” James pointed out as he followed Lily across the tightly-packed dance floor and towards the stage. 

“I know! They’ve been playing nothing but winners.” They finally reached the stage, and she began using her empty pint glass as a microphone as she belted out the lyrics of the song. 

“I think you’ve impressed the lead singer,” James observed, gesturing at the tattooed man on stage who was eying Lily with a look of admiration. Moments later, he reached out a hand to her and whispered something, and her face lit up as she allowed him to pull her up on stage and hand her the microphone. James watched in amazement as she sang the entire song word-for word, dancing around on stage without a hint of self-consciousness. Her hair fell forward into her face and her eyes sparkled with that particular sort of drunken, uninhibited elation that he’d last seen when they had danced on top of a table in the common room months earlier. She had caught the attention of several men in the crowd, but she ignored their eager attempts to catch her eye and simply enjoyed the music until the band played the last bars of the song and the lead singer wrapped her in what James could only guess was a very sweaty hug.

“That was bloody amazing!” he exclaimed after he helped her down from the stage and told a hopeful-looking bald bloke to go to hell. “You fucking stole the show.”

“I did, didn’t I,” she said, smiling and pushing her damp hair out of her face. 

“Hard to believe the girl who turns into a rock star after her third tequila shot is going to be Head Girl in a few weeks,” he remarked, holding up his fist and striking a pose in an accurate imitation of one of her signature moves.

“Oh, shut up, who says I’m going to be Head Girl.” She grabbed his hand and forced it down to his side. “And quit mocking me. This whole crowd thought I was brilliant.” She did not release his hand, and James kept his eyes locked on hers, afraid to disrupt the fragile strands of the moment, held together only by the tenuous grasp of her fingers on his.

“Well, they’d be stupid not to,” he murmured. “Even if you are a terrible dancer.”

She smiled and glanced down at their clasped hands. Rather than pulling away, however, she tightened her grip and leaned in closer. “I’m having a lot of fun,” she whispered. Her face was inches from his; he could count the tiny freckles that dotted her cheeks.

“Me too,” he said, or had it only been in his head? He couldn’t tell, and he was scared to repeat himself in case she laughed and broke the mood. Instead, he inched forward to close the gap between them, his heart pounding, barely daring to breathe as their lips grew closer and closer together.

“Prongs! Evans! We have to go!” The sound of Sirius’s voice close to his ear jarred James out of the intimacy of the moment, and he had to blink several times and run a hand through his hair before he was able to form a coherent response.

“What? Why?” He looked at Sirius, and his friend’s expression told him everything he needed to know for the moment. “Right, doesn’t matter. Evans, let’s get out of here,” he said, and he grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him towards the exit and out into the night. He couldn’t see Sirius, but he could tell he was right behind them because of the occasional muttered swears as he pushed people out of the way in his hurry to leave. As they spilled out of the pub they caught sight of Remus, Peter, and Mary a short way ahead, and they all took off running in the direction of Diagon Alley. Or at least, they thought they were heading for Diagon Alley, until they slowed five minutes later and realized they had no idea where they had actually ended up. 

“Where are we?” Lily asked, bent over gasping for breath. “And Mary, why are you carrying a bottle of liquor?”

“Oh, shit, you stole that, didn’t you?” James turned to Sirius, a grin of admiration on his face. “Nice one, Padfoot!”

“I did. Also, Moony got felt up by a sexy blonde in a race car. It’s been a fucking night,” Sirius replied. “Come on, let’s go sit down in this park and we can have a drink and tell you about it.”

The group collapsed onto the grass and lay there in silence for a moment, panting and clutching their sides. When they all caught their breath, Sirius pulled himself up into a seated position and motioned for Mary to pass him the whiskey bottle, then began recounting the events of the evening with Mary and Remus chiming in occasionally.

“The real tragedy of the night,” James said, breathless from laughter after Sirius brought the story to a close, “is that Moony didn’t get to shag the blonde girl.” He reached over and gave Remus a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Such a bloody shame.”

“Hang on!” Remus reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. “She gave me her phone number!” he said, holding it up triumphantly. “I forgot to tell you earlier, Padfoot.” He frowned. “Not sure how useful it will be, seeing as I have no bloody idea how to use a telephone.”

“Moony, it would be my pleasure to teach you how to use a telephone,” Sirius said, passing him the bottle of whiskey.

“I need to stand up,” Lily said, heaving herself to her feet with some difficulty. “I think I would’ve fallen asleep if I kept laying there.” 

“Peter fell asleep at the bar,” Remus remarked, then his eyes fell on Peter and he laughed softly. “And he’s asleep again, should’ve seen that coming.”

Mary rolled onto her side and rested her head on her hand. “Lil, you were supposed to show this lot how strong you are,” Mary reminded her, motioning for Remus to pass her the bottle of whiskey.

“Oh yeah, I forgot!” Lily surveyed the group gathered around on the grass, sizing everyone up. “All right, who should I carry? Come on, don’t be scared, I won’t drop you.”

James shrugged. “I’ll do it.” He stood up, then hesitated. “You sure I won’t be too heavy? I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Lily raised her eyebrows at him and chuckled. “No offense, Potter, but I think I can handle it. You can’t weigh much more than I do.”

James widened his eyes in indignation. “Don’t underestimate me, Evans! I’m solid muscle.” He lifted up his shirt to display his flat stomach. “See? Quidditch muscles!”

“Quidditch muscles are a load of rubbish,” Lily said, rolling her eyes. “There’s no way they’re an actual thing.”

“Merlin, Evans!” Sirius exclaimed. “Are you trying to make him cry?”

“You’re joking, right?” James ignored Sirius and gaped at Lily in disbelief. “Evans, I’m actually offended. Quidditch muscles are real! I run at least three miles a day and I train bloody hard - it takes a lot of core strength to stay on a broomstick.” When she continued to stare at him with a blank expression on her face he pulled off his shirt and stood in front of her to demonstrate his point.

“Oh,” she said, blushing slightly. “I mean, all right, maybe I underestimated…” She shrugged and stooped down in front of him. “Doesn’t matter, I can still carry you regardless. Hop on, Potter.”

He did so, and she strode off across the grass, hardly straining at all under his weight. It became more difficult when James started to laugh, because the situation suddenly became hilarious and she found herself unable to stop laughing as well.

“Quit laughing, Potter,” she protested as she reached the bench on the other side of the park and turned to head back toward the group. “You’re making this more difficult.”

“I can’t help it,” he replied, still laughing. “When I thought about how the night would go, I never imagined you’d be carrying me piggyback through a park for no apparent reason.”

Despite their inability to stop laughing, she finally reached the starting point and bent down to let him off. Everyone cheered, and she gave a silly little bow. 

“Who’s next? Remus, will you try?” She accepted the bottle from Mary and took a sip, then set it down on the ground and gestured for Remus to join her. “I think I’m going to run this time.”

Remus stood and looked at Lily uncertainly. “I’ll do it, if you’re sure you’re up for it.”

“Yes, of course I’m up for it,” she said impatiently, stooping and waiting for him to climb on her back. His long legs nearly brushed the grass, but he tried to scrunch up to make it easier for her as she took off running across the grass. She made it most of the way to the halfway point before her high heeled sandal sunk deep into the grass and she went sprawling, dropping Remus in the process. They both landed in awkward positions and burst into laughter as they struggled to right themselves.

“Merlin, Remus, I’m so sorry!” she said between peals of laughter. “I really thought I had that under control.”

“That’s all right,” he replied. He climbed to his feet then offered her a hand up before brushing grass from his jeans. “I suppose it was my Quidditch muscles that tripped you up.”

This made her laugh so hard that she almost ended up on the ground again, and she only managed to stay on her feet when Remus wrapped an arm around her waist and led her back to the group. At this point they decided it was best to go home, so James nudged Peter awake and they backtracked until they found the road that led to Sirius’s flat. 

“Hang on, we need food,” Sirius announced as they passed a chip shop on the other side of the street, and he took off without even bothering to check that no cars were coming. 

“Don’t you have food in your flat?” Lily asked, scrambling after him in her heels. 

“That’s unlikely,” Mary pointed out, jogging to catch up with them. “Probably just bread and a jar of peanut butter. Maybe some Bertie Botts if we’re lucky.”

“Hey!” Sirius protested. “I also have half a bag of crisps! Wait, actually, no, I don’t, I ate those.”

“Padfoot!” James called. He waited for a car to drive passed before crossing the street with Remus and Peter following. “Why don’t I just go in and order for everyone?” He glanced at Remus and Peter, who were leaning heavily on each other, and at Mary and Lily, who were now in hysterics over Sirius’s crisps comment. “We might cause a bit of a scene if we all go in.”

Sirius shook his head. “Nope, nothing doing, Prongs. We’re all going in. No man left behind.” He did not wait for James to argue, but instead pulled open the door of the shop and ushered everyone inside.

“Hullo, mate,” James said, giving the man behind the counter a friendly wave in hopes that it would start their interaction off on a positive note. He made no reply but gave the merest nod; James did not think this was a good sign.

“What do you want, Lil?” Mary asked, turning to Lily over her shoulder to take her order.

“Chips,” Lily replied.

“She’ll have chips,” Mary said to the man behind the counter.

“Yes, I gathered that,” he snapped. “Heard her with my own ears.” 

“No need to be bloody rude,” Sirius said, crossing his arms and glaring at the man. 

The man sighed. He glanced over at Peter, who was slumped against Remus with his eyes closed, then at Remus, who had just taken a sip from the bottle of whiskey when he thought nobody was paying attention. 

“No,” he said in a flat tone.

“No what?” Sirius asked, frowning.

“No, I’m not serving you and your drunk friends. That one’s asleep over there, that one’s drinking in the shop, and these girls can’t even stop giggling long enough to order bloody chips. It’s been a long day already, and I’m not dealing with it. Get out of my shop, mate.”

Mary and Lily gaped at the man in astonishment, then looked at each other and burst into laughter. Remus tapped Peter on the shoulder and attempted to urge him along, but Sirius made no move to leave.

“I’m not bloody leaving,” Sirius replied, staring back at the man with a stubborn expression on his face. “We have a right to order food, even if we are a bit drunk. And if you refuse to serve us, what sort of bloody proprietor are you, anyway?”

“A smart one,” the man answered. “Get the fuck out.”

“Come on, Padfoot,” James said, putting a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “At this point he’s just going to spit in our food anyway.” He glanced at Remus and Peter. “We should get back while Wormtail’s still capable of keeping his eyes open. Plus, I’d say Moony has maybe 45 minutes before he pukes, less if he keeps drinking.”

Sirius sighed but nodded. “Yeah, all right.” He began walking towards the door, then turned back and pointed at the man behind the counter. “I don’t like you,” he said, scowling.

“The feeling’s mutual, mate,” the man said, and he didn’t take his eyes off the group until the door had swung shut on the last of them.

The rest of the walk back was uneventful, and after navigating the stairs with difficulty they all tumbled through the door of Sirius’s flat and collapsed in various spots in his living room.

“What a night,” Lily remarked, taking another sip of whiskey as she sat down cross legged on the floor.

“Do you think you need any more of that?” Remus asked, plucking the bottle from her grasp and taking a long swallow.

“Do you?” Lily asked pointedly, and he grinned and set it on the coffee table.

“Yeah, fair,” he replied, stretching his legs out on the floor and leaning back against the sofa. “Mary, did you have a good birthday?”

“It’s been brilliant,” Mary said. She sat curled on the couch with her head on the armrest. “Lily, I wish you could’ve seen me drive that car. It was wild.”

“I know, I can’t believe we missed that,” James remarked, returning from the bedroom where he has deposited a snoring Peter on the bottom bunk. “Although you lot missed Evans serenading the entire pub.” 

James had just finished describing Lily’s performance, complete with a reenactment of her dance moves, when Sirius came in from the kitchen with a plate of peanut butter sandwiches. 

“It’s not chips, but I suppose it’ll do,” he said, handing them around before sprawling out next to Remus. “Prongs, put on some music, will you?” He retrieved the bottle of whiskey from the coffee table and took a sip, then held it out of reach when Remus made a grab for it. “Get out of here, Moony, you don’t need any more. Eat your bloody sandwich.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Padfoot,” Remus argued, trying in vain to snatch the bottle from Sirius’s grasp. “I don’t want a sandwich, I want another drink.” He grabbed Sirius’s wrist and reached for the bottle with his other hand, completely forgetting about the sandwich he was holding and watching in amusement as it fell onto the rug.

“Ooh, now you’re in trouble,” Lily said, pointing at the sandwich before meeting Remus’s gaze and bursting into laughter.

“Remus Mortimer Lupin, you better eat that bloody sandwich!” Sirius picked up the sandwich and thrust it at Remus, but he waved it away. 

“I’m not eating that, it fell on the floor,” Remus protested. “You eat it, if you’re so keen.” He fell silent for a moment, then his face lit up. “You have any chocolate? I would eat chocolate. Even if it has fallen on the floor, although that would not be my preference.”

“Ooh, I have chocolate!” Lily exclaimed, reaching into her bag and pulling out a set of keys, a lipstick, and handful of coins. “It should be in here somewhere…” Her face fell. “Wait, shit, I ate it.” She rested a hand on Remus’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, I lied! What a rubbish friend I am.”

Remus tilted his head sideways and grinned at her. “That’s all right,” he said, chuckling. “You are not a rubbish friend. You are an excellent friend, because you cover prefect duties for me and you appreciate a quiet afternoon of reading in the common room  _ and _ ” he jabbed a finger into the air for emphasis “you don’t try to force feed me sandwiches from the floor.” He glared at Sirius and stuck his tongue out.

“Aww.” Lily leaned over and hugged Remus. “That’s so sweet.” She rested her head back against the sofa and let her eyes drift shut. 

“Evans, I notice you didn’t eat your sandwich either,” Sirius pointed out, shaking his head in disapproval. “You’re both going to puke, and I’m not going to feel bad at all.”

“Liar,” Remus said. He turned his head to face Sirius, an expression of lazy, relaxed contentment on his face. “You always feel bad when I puke, except that time I puked on your jacket and you were bloody furious, which was understandable.”

“Oh, shut it, Moony, you’re drunk,” Sirius muttered, grinning.

“What’s everyone doing tomorrow?” Mary asked, licking peanut butter from her fingers. “I’ve got the day off tomorrow. First Sunday off all summer.”

“We’ve got Sunday lunch with my parents,” James said. “You should come.”

“Oh, that’s all right. I wouldn’t want to impose,” Mary said.

“Don’t be silly,” James said, spotting a Quaffle lying underneath the coffee table and reaching for it then tossing it from hand to hand. “They’d love to have you. They always make extra food to send Sirius home with anyway because they assume he’d starve if they didn’t, which is probably true, actually.” He grinned at Sirius then held the Quaffle aloft for a moment before tossing it in his friend’s direction. Apparently Sirius was accustomed to having Quaffles thrown at him with very little warning, because he caught it one-handed and threw it back while eating his sandwich with the other hand. 

“Evans, you should come too,” James added, standing to catch the Quaffle, then climbing onto the arm of the sofa to throw it behind his back to Sirius. 

“No trick throws, mate,” Sirius complained, catching the Quaffle anyway. “This is drunken, lazy, throw from a seated position sort of pass.” He tossed it back, and James reached out and snatched it out of the air.

“Really?” Lily asked. She looked over at James, still perched on the arm of the sofa, and he grinned and nodded.   
“Yeah, really. My parents would love it if you came. We can all go in the pool after, or play a bit of Quidditch or something. It’ll be brilliant.”

“Yeah, all right,” she said, nodding.

“Watch it, Evans,” Sirius cautioned, and she ducked, expecting to see the Quaffle flying at her head, but it was still clutched to James’s chest. A moment later his meaning became clear when Remus lurched to his feet, and she hastily drew her knees in so he could stumble past her to the bathroom without tripping.

“How did you know he was about to do that?” she demanded, staring at Sirius in astonishment. “What, do you have some sort of sixth sense that tells you when someone’s about to puke?”

Sirius smiled wryly. “I suppose you could put it that way. I just got good at recognizing the signs after the aforementioned jacket incident. Won’t make that mistake twice.”

“Is he all right?” Mary asked. She had slumped down on the sofa and had her legs dangling over the armrest. “Should I go check on him or bring him some water or something?” Her brow was furrowed in concern, but she made no move to sit up.

“No, don’t,” James replied. He jumped down from the sofa and lay down on the rug, then began to toss the Quaffle into the air. “He’s a very private puker. Doesn’t like it when people make a fuss. He doesn’t even make a lot of noise when he pukes. He’s very… Damn, what’s the word I’m looking for? Moony would know.”

“I bet you’re a bloody loud puker, Black, aren’t you?” Mary asked. She swung her legs down and placed them on either side of Sirius’s head, then began tugging his hair into a French braid. 

“‘Course I am,” Sirius said, leaning back so she didn’t have to pull so hard. “But to be fair, I’m loud when I do most things.” He reached up to feel the top of his head, but Mary slapped his hand away. 

“Wait till I’m finished or you’ll wreck it.” She finished braiding the ends of his hair and secured it with a hair tie from her wrist. “Don’t you lot think he should wear his hair like this all the time?” She surveyed her work with satisfaction, then slumped back against the couch cushions as though exhausted by her effort.

“I think it’s brilliant,” James said, tugging the end of Sirius’s braid and grinning. “Although it’d look better with a bow or ribbon or something, don’t you think?”

“I agree,” Remus added, returning to his spot on the floor next to Lily. He looked slightly pale and clammy, and he seemed to be having trouble staying awake. 

“Go to bed, Moony,” James urged him. “You can have my bed.”

“No, that’s all right,” Remus argued. “I’ll take the top bunk, it’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be stupid, you’ll fall and break your neck. Take my bed, and I’ll either crawl in with you in a bit or fall asleep on the floor out here - the rug’s actually quite comfortable.”

“Why don’t you just sleep on the sofa?” Lily suggested.

“You’re sleeping on the sofa, Evans,” James said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, am I?” She blinked several times, trying to clear her head. “I thought I might apparate home.”

James laughed. “Not bloody likely. You’ll splinch yourself or puke or both. Take the sofa, it’s quite comfortable.” 

She shrugged and nodded, mostly because she lacked the energy to argue.

“I suppose I’d better go to bed,” Mary said, hoisting herself to her feet and stifling a yawn. “You coming, Black, or are you going to stay up a while longer?” She looked at Sirius, a sly smile on her face, and he raised his eyebrows at her and got to his feet.

“I’m coming,” he replied, then glanced at James and Remus and grinned. “See you tossers in the morning. Sleep well, Evans, and try not to puke on my sofa.” He turned and followed Mary into the bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

James stood, then offered Remus a hand up.

“I’m all right, Prongs, really,” Remus assured him, declining James’s offer to help him to bed. “Have fun, you two.” He looked from Lily to James, a knowing smile on his face, before walking unsteadily into the second bedroom without bothering to shut the door. A moment later they heard the sound of the bed springs squeaking as he collapsed onto the bed, fully-clothed.

James crossed the room and gently shut the door before heading for the kitchen, returning a moment later with a box of Bertie Botts.

“You tired, Evans?” he asked, plopping down on the couch and shaking a few beans into his hand before offering her the box. “You can come sit up here if you like, by the way, unless you prefer the floor.”

She smiled and sat down next to him, accepting the box and digging around until she found a grass-flavored bean. “I don’t fancy going to sleep, to be honest.” She popped the Bertie Botts into her mouth, chewing and swallowing before she continued. “Things are a bit spinny. I don’t think closing my eyes would help.”

He frowned and touched her shoulder, his eyes full of concern. “You all right? Sorry, I shouldn’t have made you drink so much.”

She laughed. “Don’t be stupid, you didn’t force the tequila down my throat. I’ll be fine, just talk to me for a bit to take my mind off it.” She reached for the Chudley Cannons blanket thrown over the back of the sofa and draped it over her legs. “Unless you’re tired and would rather go to bed.”

He shook his head. “Nah, I’m not that tired.” He reached for the Quaffle resting by his feet and began to toss it idly from hand to hand. “You done the summer homework for Transfiguration yet?”

She glanced sideways at him and burst into laughter. “Three tequila shots and countless pints in, and you want to talk about Transfiguration?”

He shrugged. “I dunno, I thought it’d take your mind off the spins. We can talk about Potions if you’d rather, or, I dunno, music, or Sleekeazy’s, or goblin rebellions, or, hang on, what do you think about Sirius and Mary?”

She held up a hand and tiptoed across the room, then pressed her ear against Sirius’s bedroom door for a moment before hurrying back to the sofa.

“Are they asleep or shagging?” James asked, smirking.

“Shagging, which is probably better, to be honest, because they’re less likely to pay attention to anything we’re saying out here,” she replied, though she lowered her voice nonetheless. “Anyway, I think they’re absolutely head over heels in love with each other, and it’s so bloody obvious to everyone except them.”

“Completely fucking obvious!” James agreed. “How can they not realize it?” He stopped tossing the Quaffle back and forth and began spinning it on one finger, watching it rotate until it made him dizzy and he set it down on the couch cushions.

“Cause they’re idiots,” she said with a shrug. “Sorry, I didn’t even ask if you wanted any blanket.” She tugged the side of the orange blanket and offered it to him.

“Sure,” he said, tucking the blanket around his legs even though the breeze drifting in from the open window was balmy and he did not feel cold at all. He was acutely aware of how close their legs were, how close their hands were resting on top of the Cannons blanket, and he cast around for something to say to distract himself.

“I’m excited that you’re going to come tomorrow,” he blurted, then immediately wished he hadn’t, because maybe she had changed her mind and was trying to think of a way to tell him without hurting his feelings.

“I am too,” she said, and the open, earnest smile on her face surprised him. “I’m looking forward to talking with your parents.” 

“You are?” He glanced sideways at her, trying to read her expression.

“Yeah, I am. I’m going to offer them my condolences that they’ve had to put up with you for the last seventeen years.” She laughed, then ducked as he tossed the Quaffle in her direction. “Hey! I told you my head’s spinning. How’s hitting me with a Quaffle supposed to help?”

“Relax, Evans. I aimed high on purpose. If I’d intended to hit you, I would have.” He leaned back against the couch cushions and rested his feet on the coffee table, careful not to pull the blanket from her lap. “But I suppose that wasn’t very nice, I’m sorry. You want some water or something?”

“No, I’m okay.” She shifted position and smoothed the blanket over her legs, brushing her hand against his. Neither of them moved for a moment; James was sure his heart was pounding loud enough for everyone in the flat to hear. Slowly, as if afraid to startle a butterfly or bird into flight, he moved his hand until it rested on top of hers before lacing their fingers together. He stared down at their entwined fingers, gently tracing his thumb over hers, then looked up to meet her gaze. She smiled at him, a nervous, uncertain smile, and she opened her mouth to speak, but then abruptly yanked her hand away and rose from the couch, knocking the Cannons blanket to the floor in a tangle of orange fleece as she raced to the bathroom.

“Shit,” James muttered, taking several deep breaths to get himself under control before rising and following her to the bathroom. “Evans?” he said, knocking softly on the door.

“I’m fine, be out in a minute,” she called, before the unmistakable sound of vomit splashing into the toilet met his ears.

“Evans, I’m coming in,” he said before pushing open the bathroom door and kneeling down next to her.

“Go away, Potter,” she pleaded, wiping her mouth and trying to hold her hair out of her face. “I’ll be fine in a minute.” She met his gaze, then sighed and went back to staring into the toilet bowl. “Merlin, this is embarrassing.” She lost her grip on her hair and it tumbled down around her face. 

James ignored her entreaties and gently combed her hair back from her face and gathered it in his fist. “Don’t see what there is to be embarrassed about,” he replied, then began counting on his fingers as he listed each incident. “Remus puked earlier, Peter fell asleep at the chip shop, Sirius had to run from the pub to avoid being arrested for stealing a bottle of liquor from behind the bar, and I have possibly the worst dance moves in the entire country, besides yours, of course.” He paused for a moment, wracking his brain. “I don’t think Mary did anything too embarrassing tonight, except being completely oblivious to her feelings for Sirius, but it’s her birthday, so I suppose we can give her a pass. Point is, we’re friends, so there’s no need to be embarrassed about something you have no control over, and you can continue to tell me to leave, but I’m not letting you vomit all over your hair, so you may as well save your breath.”

She turned to face him, a grateful smile spreading over her face. “Thanks, Potter. That means-” she began, before whipping around and vomiting once again, barely making it into the toilet bowl this time. James kept her held back in one hand while he rubbed slow circles on her back with his other hand. After a minute her shoulders stopped heaving, and she wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet.

“You good?” he asked, maintaining his grip on her hair just in case.

“I think so.” She tried to stand, and he released her hair and helped her to her feet. “Do you know where Sirius keeps his toothpaste? I’m just going to swish some around my mouth and hope it makes me feel less pathetic and disgusting.”

He pointed to a drawer below the sink, then left to give her a moment to herself. When she emerged a few minutes later and joined him in the living room, he handed her a glass of water and some of the clothes he kept at Sirius’s flat for nights he stayed over.

“I figured you might want to change into something more comfortable,” he said, tactfully avoiding looking directly at the small amount of sick that now spattered the front of her dress. While she changed in the bathroom he spread a blanket on the floor in front of the couch and removed his shoes, then sprawled out, finding it to be more comfortable than he had expected.

“Aren’t you going to change, too?” Lily asked. She stood by the sofa, barefoot and clad in James’s sweatpants and a t-shirt he had gotten at the Quidditch World Cup years ago. It felt odd, seeing her wearing his clothes, and it somehow seemed almost more intimate than seeing her naked.

“Oh.” James glanced down at his own t-shirt and jeans and shrugged. “Well, I usually get too hot for actual pajamas in the summer, and I thought it might be too weird if you came out to find me sitting here in my underwear.” 

She laughed and sat down on the couch. “You just held my hair while I threw up. I think we’ve reached the level of friendship where I can see you in your underwear without it changing the way I think of you.”

He grinned. “Yeah, that’s fair.” He stood and stripped off his clothes, tossing them onto the floor and sitting down on his makeshift bed, trying not to notice if Lily was watching him.

“You’re really going to sleep on the floor?” She lay down on the couch and pulled the Cannons blanket over herself, rolling over to face him with her legs curled into her body. “What if I wake up and puke on you? Wouldn’t you be more comfortable sharing the bed with Remus?”

“Nah, I’m just as likely to get puked on sleeping with Remus. Plus, you wouldn’t think so, but he’s a total bed hog. I don’t mind the floor.” He stood to shut the light off, then padded back to his spot. Her face was now in shadow except for the dim moonlight that crept in through the window. “Do you feel better now?”

She pulled the blanket up higher so it stopped just above her chin. “Sort of. I won’t die or anything, but the world is still spinning a bit.” She hesitated. “Maybe, that is, if it’s not too weird, maybe you could rub my back like you were doing before?” A wan smile crept over her face. “It was nice, and it helped a bit.”

Her small request made him so happy that he forgot to consciously not think about wearing only his underwear in front of her. “Course it’s not too weird,” he replied, grinning like an idiot and hoping it was too dark for her to properly see. “Like you said, we’ve reached a new level of friendship.” He scooted closer to the sofa as she rolled over, then he began to run his hands over her back as she let her eyes drift shut.

“Thanks, Potter,” she murmured, her voice already heavy with sleep. “Thanks for being so nice to me.”

He didn’t reply, but continued to rub her back for another five minutes to ensure she was actually asleep before kissing her head softly and stretching out on the floor. He replayed the best parts of the evening as he drifted off to sleep, a smile still on his lips.

“Guess what I just saw?” Mary set down two glasses of water on the bedside table and crawled back under the covers, settling her head in its usual resting place on Sirius’s chest.

“Hmm?” Sirius lay in a satisfied stupor, too lazy to even reach for his cigarettes. He reached up to brush a strand of Mary’s hair out of his face, then wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer.

“Lily’s in your bathroom puking her guts out - not a quiet puker, by the way - and James is fucking holding her hair back and rubbing her back. Cutest bloody thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” She sighed and pulled the blanket closer around them.

“Aww, Macdonald, that is bloody adorable.” He gazed up at the ceiling, feeling an uncharacteristic upwelling of hope and excitement. “I mean, as adorable as puking can be, I suppose.”

“Listen to our cynical, non-sentimental arses gushing over romance like love isn’t a bunch of overrated rubbish,” she said, chuckling.

“Well, for them it’s not,” Sirius pointed out. “For them it’s the real thing. It’s rare, but it’s so bloody nice to see, isn’t it? Don’t tell anyone I said this, but it kind of gives me hope for the state of this fucked up world.” 

“I feel the same way,” Mary replied, letting her eyes drift shut.

_ I feel the same way.  _ Something about her words sparked a memory, and all of a sudden that drunken conversation at the payphone came crashing back to him. Sirius lay there, unable to move or speak, as the tangle of emotions weighed on his chest. He thought about Mary, curled up next to him like nothing had changed, and he had to remind himself that nothing had, in fact, changed, except he now remembered what a bloody drunken idiot he had been several weeks ago. Did Mary remember that conversation? Had she been drunk, too? He couldn’t be sure. Or did she remember but hoped refusing to acknowledge or talk about it would make the whole situation fade from their memories?  _ I feel the same way. _ He could hear her speaking these words, could recall the exact feeling of the telephone in his hand and the way his heart had leapt when his drunken mind had grasped the meaning of what she was telling him. But had she meant it, or was it just a throwaway comment, something she’d said in the heat of the moment only to regret it the next day? He turned these thoughts over and over in his mind, finally slipping into a fitful sleep.

When Sirius opened his eyes the next morning and threw his arm over his face to block out the bright sunlight, the other side of the bed was empty. 

“Macdonald?” he called, but there was no reply. “Macdonald? Prongs? Moony?”

Peter poked his head into the room, rubbing his eyes and frowning. “Why are you shouting?” He crossed the room and sat on the edge of Sirius’s bed, then rested his head in his hands. “I feel like I fell asleep in public last night. I did, didn’t I?”

“Twice,” Sirius confirmed, grinning. “Where’s Moony? Is he alive?” He raised his voice. “Moony!”

“Bloody hell, stop shouting.” Remus stood in the doorway; he was clad in one of his usual cardigans and his pale face was drawn into a scowl. 

“Moony!” Sirius pushed himself into a seated position. “Did you snog some random blonde girl from the pub last night, or did I dream that?”

“That really happened,” Peter said, glancing at Remus and flashing him an approving smile. “I was awake for that much, at least.”

“Excellent,” Sirius said, grinning. “Best day of my life!”

“That’s my line,” Remus complained.

“Where’s Prongs?” Sirius asked. He opened his mouth to shout again.

“Padfoot, if you shout again I will fucking murder you,” Remus said, crossing his arms and glaring at Sirus. “I think he’s gone out for a run, because it’s just Lily and Mary out there.”

“I hope he thinks to pick up some breakfast for us on the way back,” Sirius said, before throwing back the blankets and heaving himself out of bed. He headed into the kitchen, pulling a jar of peanut butter and a spoon from a cabinet before wandering into the living room.

“Morning, Evans, Macdonald,” he said, sitting down in the armchair and unscrewing the jar of peanut butter. “Want some breakfast?”

Mary lay slumped on the couch with the Cannons blanket pulled over her head and made no reply. Lily raised her eyebrows at him. “By breakfast, do you mean peanut butter straight from the jar?”

He nodded, his mouth full, then swallowed and licked the spoon. “I had bread, but we ate it all last night. Also, I think this is the last clean spoon, so you’ll have to wash your own, or you can use this one if you don’t mind.”

She laughed. “I’m good, thanks.”

Sirius shrugged, then dipped his spoon back into the jar of peanut butter. “Suit yourself.” He surveyed her borrowed clothes and gave her an appraising look. “Nice outfit.”

She glanced down and blushed. “I borrowed some clothes from James,” she explained.

“Yeah, I gathered that,” he said, popping the spoon into his mouth and speaking with his mouth full. “How are you feeling this morning?”

She frowned at him, then covered her face with her hands and groaned. “Did everyone hear?”

He shrugged. “Just me and Macdonald, I think. No need to be embarrassed. I got really drunk at a family Christmas party, must’ve been 3rd year, and threw up all over my cousin Bellatrix’s shoes.” He grinned at the memory. “She lost her fucking mind, it was actually brilliant, so sorry, that was a bad story to tell to make you feel better, but I’m sure you can think of at least three other examples of things I’ve done that are more embarrassing than you getting drunk and throwing up in the actual toilet like a responsible adult.”

“Responsible adult?” James strode into the living room, clutching a takeaway bag and a tray of coffees. “I assume you’re not talking about yourself.” He wore trainers, running shorts, and an old t-shirt, and his face was slightly sweaty.

“You did bring us breakfast!” Sirius set down the jar of peanut butter, not bothering to remove the spoon, and held out his hand for the takeaway bag. “Prongs, you’re such a pal.”

“I figured you didn’t have anything besides a jar of peanut butter,” James said, reaching into the bag and tossing Sirius a bacon roll, then handing him a coffee from the tray. “Evans, you hungry?” He set a bacon roll and a cup of coffee on the table in front of her. “Macdonald, that you under the blanket?”

She peeked her head out, then sat up and stretched. “Thanks for breakfast,” she said, accepting a cup of coffee and taking a large gulp. “Did you go for a run, you freak?”

“He always does,” Remus remarked. He took a seat on the floor in front of Sirius’s chair, clutching a glass of water and squinting against the sunlight streaming through the window. “Nice jumper, Macdonald.” He nodded at the old cardigan Mary had taken to wearing and grinned.

“Ooh, this is yours, isn’t it?” She glanced down at it and smiled guiltily. “Sorry, it’s just so comfortable. I’ve been wearing it all summer, to tell you the truth, but you can have it back-”

He shook his head. “Nah, that’s all right, keep it. I have plenty more.” He gestured down at the jumper he currently wore. “No, it’s all right, Sirius can have mine,” he said to James, waving away the bacon roll and looking slightly sick.

“Figured you’d say that,” James said, pulling a bar of chocolate from his pocket and handing it to Remus, who accepted it with a grateful smile. “Eat up, everyone.” He passed the bag to Peter, who sat down next to Remus and unwrapped it eagerly. “You all need to be alive and well in a couple hours, because my parents are expecting us, and it looks like an excellent day for Quidditch.”

“Bloody hell.” Sirius crammed the rest of his bacon roll into his mouth and reached for the second one. “How is it that every day I’m hungover as fuck is an excellent day for Quidditch?”

James settled next to Lily on the sofa, careful to maintain enough distance between them; he didn’t want to push his luck. “That’s because most days are excellent days for Quidditch. Also, you are hungover as fuck more often than the average person.” 

Lily held up her arm, examining a conspicuous-looking bruise. “Anyone know where I got this?” she asked.

Remus grinned. “Same way I got this, I think.” He rolled up the sleeve of his cardigan to show off an even larger bruise. “I have another one on my arse, too, but I won’t show you that.”

“What happened?” Lily said, then her hand flew to her mouth as an expression of recognition spread over her face. “Oh, Merlin, I dropped you, didn’t I?”

Remus nodded. “It’s quite all right. I enjoyed the piggyback ride, even if it was cut short.”

James glanced at Lily. “I’ll forgive you for dropping my friend if you promise to come to my house. You’re still coming, aren’t you?”

She swallowed her mouthful of coffee and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll have to go home and change first. I think it’d be weird to show up at your parents’ house wearing your clothes. But I’ll come.” She looked suspiciously happy for someone who had consumed such a large quantity of alcohol the night before.  
Mary looked over at Sirius and raised her eyebrows, and he gave her a tiny nod. Things were definitely moving in the right direction on the James and Lily front. The words _I feel the same_ way echoed in his head once again, but he pushed this to the back of his mind to examine later. Today was too bright and sunny for complex emotions. Today was for lunch at the Potters, with way too much food and everyone talking at once, and for makeshift Quidditch games even though Peter was only mediocre and Remus could barely stay on a broom, and for cannonball contests in the pool and games of Exploding Snap and making elaborate plans for the coming school year. There would be time to examine this newly uncovered memory later.


End file.
